Here are some samples from my CD Love Rises. Send me an email if you wish to order the CD:
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Select a song and click play:
As I walked out on the docks of Brooklyn one morning late in May
I spied a comely maiden whose hair was turning grey.
“Oh, aging maid, come leave your cares and walk along with me”...
With downcast eyes, she soft replied, “Alas, it cannot be.
My lover was a sailor lad. His strength would make you pale.
He bought a fresh-baked bagel on the day he was to sail.
With his own bare hands he broke it in two and gave this half to me,
And bade me swear that I’d be true ‘til he returned from sea.
-----Ahhh----
Maybe he’s deceased, maybe he’s in jail
It’s been seventeen long years and my bagel’s getting stale.
But I will not give over, no, I will not give in
I’ll clutch my bagel to my heart and wait for him.”
"Ah, foolish maid, you’ve been deceived; he’s used you for his sport.
By now he’s either drowned or has a wife in every port.
Your bagel’s not the only thing that’s getting stale, I fear,
So come along and go with me; I promise you good cheer.”
“My analyst agrees with you. She says I am obsessed
And struggling with unresolved Oedipal distress.
I’ve been through EST and Esalyn and Scientology, too,
But sacred is that pledge to me, so what am I to do?
-----Ahhh-----
Maybe he’s deceased, (etc.)(chorus)
No longer could I control myself; I seized this maiden fair
And something hard pressed in on her which caused her much despair.
I drew it out, she gave a shriek, and clasped it hungrily
For it was the other bagel half and it fitted perfectly.
“I am your long-lost sailor love, returned from foreign wars,
And nowhere did I find a bagel half as nice as yours.
Go put these in the oven, love, try to arouse some yeast:
I’ll get the cream cheese and the lox,
And we’ll have our wedding feast!”
I spied a comely maiden whose hair was turning grey.
“Oh, aging maid, come leave your cares and walk along with me”...
With downcast eyes, she soft replied, “Alas, it cannot be.
My lover was a sailor lad. His strength would make you pale.
He bought a fresh-baked bagel on the day he was to sail.
With his own bare hands he broke it in two and gave this half to me,
And bade me swear that I’d be true ‘til he returned from sea.
-----Ahhh----
Maybe he’s deceased, maybe he’s in jail
It’s been seventeen long years and my bagel’s getting stale.
But I will not give over, no, I will not give in
I’ll clutch my bagel to my heart and wait for him.”
"Ah, foolish maid, you’ve been deceived; he’s used you for his sport.
By now he’s either drowned or has a wife in every port.
Your bagel’s not the only thing that’s getting stale, I fear,
So come along and go with me; I promise you good cheer.”
“My analyst agrees with you. She says I am obsessed
And struggling with unresolved Oedipal distress.
I’ve been through EST and Esalyn and Scientology, too,
But sacred is that pledge to me, so what am I to do?
-----Ahhh-----
Maybe he’s deceased, (etc.)(chorus)
No longer could I control myself; I seized this maiden fair
And something hard pressed in on her which caused her much despair.
I drew it out, she gave a shriek, and clasped it hungrily
For it was the other bagel half and it fitted perfectly.
“I am your long-lost sailor love, returned from foreign wars,
And nowhere did I find a bagel half as nice as yours.
Go put these in the oven, love, try to arouse some yeast:
I’ll get the cream cheese and the lox,
And we’ll have our wedding feast!”
She was raised in the days when ladies wore gloves and gentlemen bothered to bow.
She stands at the edge of the ballroom floor confused by what she sees now. Her silver-blond hair is piled up high; she catches a dashing young gentleman's eye
He holds out his hand, she doesn't ask why as they glide into the dance
To the 'round-again. 'round-again waltz
Do it fast, do it slow
The 'round-again, 'round-again waltz
One more time before you go.
He's followed the pattern so many times, he knows all the moves by heart
So many women have passed through his arms, he barely can tell them apart
He vowed he wouldn't dance any more but the band strikes up and his spirits soar
So he charms a new partner, they take to the floor and they dance, yes, they dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
His suit is too big, his bow-tie is too small, his shoes are brand new--they're too tight
He didn't want to come, but his mother insisted, and he knows his mother was right
It's grandma's birthday, the party is grand; he shyly approaches and helps her to stand
They move out of time with the beat of the band but they dance, yes they dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
You can dance with your loved ones wherever they are; if you dream them
they'll be near
And you can dance with the friends who have come and gone, turning
through the years
Dance with the lover for whom you will burn--dance with the soldier who
never returned
Take a dance with yourself--that's a dance you have earned--come and dance--
we'll all dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
She stands at the edge of the ballroom floor confused by what she sees now. Her silver-blond hair is piled up high; she catches a dashing young gentleman's eye
He holds out his hand, she doesn't ask why as they glide into the dance
To the 'round-again. 'round-again waltz
Do it fast, do it slow
The 'round-again, 'round-again waltz
One more time before you go.
He's followed the pattern so many times, he knows all the moves by heart
So many women have passed through his arms, he barely can tell them apart
He vowed he wouldn't dance any more but the band strikes up and his spirits soar
So he charms a new partner, they take to the floor and they dance, yes, they dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
His suit is too big, his bow-tie is too small, his shoes are brand new--they're too tight
He didn't want to come, but his mother insisted, and he knows his mother was right
It's grandma's birthday, the party is grand; he shyly approaches and helps her to stand
They move out of time with the beat of the band but they dance, yes they dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
You can dance with your loved ones wherever they are; if you dream them
they'll be near
And you can dance with the friends who have come and gone, turning
through the years
Dance with the lover for whom you will burn--dance with the soldier who
never returned
Take a dance with yourself--that's a dance you have earned--come and dance--
we'll all dance
To the 'round-again (etc.)
You're fast asleep in the back of the car
I'd like to pull up and rest a while
But the rumble of the engine is part of your sleep
And the motion of the car is your cradle in the deep
And I know on the loom of this dark road
We're weaving, weaving your memory of being young
Being young.
When we get home I'll have to wake you up
You'll cry and hit me 'til you're safe in your bed
It feels so strange to be me carrying you
I still remember when I was carried, too
And I know on the loom of my tired arms
You're weaving, weaving your memory of being young.
Being young.
It sometimes seems like threads of dreams
Are all that bind us to the lives we lead
Your mother sits and she dreams to herself
Your dinner sits and it waits on the shelf
But you know on the loom of her life's dreams
She's weaving, weaving your memory of being young
Being young.
Day after day---year after year---
I know that you've been busy weaving, too
Sometimes I'm strong---sometimes I'm not---
Sometimes I reach out for your hand a lot
And I know on the loom of our ten fingers
We're weaving, weaving our memory of being loved
Being loved.
I'd like to pull up and rest a while
But the rumble of the engine is part of your sleep
And the motion of the car is your cradle in the deep
And I know on the loom of this dark road
We're weaving, weaving your memory of being young
Being young.
When we get home I'll have to wake you up
You'll cry and hit me 'til you're safe in your bed
It feels so strange to be me carrying you
I still remember when I was carried, too
And I know on the loom of my tired arms
You're weaving, weaving your memory of being young.
Being young.
It sometimes seems like threads of dreams
Are all that bind us to the lives we lead
Your mother sits and she dreams to herself
Your dinner sits and it waits on the shelf
But you know on the loom of her life's dreams
She's weaving, weaving your memory of being young
Being young.
Day after day---year after year---
I know that you've been busy weaving, too
Sometimes I'm strong---sometimes I'm not---
Sometimes I reach out for your hand a lot
And I know on the loom of our ten fingers
We're weaving, weaving our memory of being loved
Being loved.