Strawberry blond curls bouncing as she dances
Quickly stealing hearts country music romances
Universal love for music maroon mood enhances
A little tip of his hat he winks a tall strapping lad
Red flannel shirt blue jeans work charming fad
Emerald eyes full of delight the barn is a glow
Denim jackets boots matching as we Do-Si-do
Amber moon hangs this June like pearl earring
New music swells cowboy yells playing tambourine
Come one come all let’s dance till fall a happy hour
Energetic night a bluegrass night blooms like flower
bluegrass belting out
its lonesome sultry offbeat ~
subtle jazzy roots
fiddler speeds music up
dancers are getting dizzy
crowd claps and stamps
you are in hillbilly country now
make some noise if you want to live
bluegrass is real here
Meadow was born out of a long line of fiddlers
Her bluegrass roots showed out without apology
We were tapping our feet after the first three notes
Songbirds hovered close, to get a better seat.
She’s a Williams all right, Old Grandma Williams said.
This is her Hatchet roots showing through said Aunt Hatchet.
Their feud was well-known in the Tennessee Valley.
After Williams’ first husband ran off with Aunt Hatchet.
fiddle heads unfurl
bluegrass music sounds in breeze
hear nature's banjo
Metronome heart beats in 4/4 time while mandolin chimes in staccato voice. In the background, guitar hums and banjo sings. Bluegrass echoes across southern winds; blues and mountain music force a dance from tranquil feet; it’s a concert fit for country royalty, at the Opry. The East coast clogs and smiles.
On the rolling winds,
Echo strains of the southland;
Gaia’s toe tapping.
Cotton fluff Frames the tree tops;
brother sun salutes a wandering sky.
Cardinal sits in the pear tree;
few are left of his kind.
A bright red visage on a green canvas.
Sipping mocha bliss is a delight amid blues and
greens of a Kentucky morning.
Grass of bluish haze carpets the land
once rich with tobaccos offspring;
white clouds against azure sky and
hazy blue carpet are a stunning display.
In the garden of produce delight sits a bunny;
explorer on a quest for breakfast.
He is not fazed by squirrels hogging acorns.
I sip my bliss and pray that Mr. Bunny does not become the breakfast of nesting hawks nearby. Squirrels often hold their own counter-attack, but bunny is an all too trusting soul.
By the completion of my bliss; bunny begins his;
lettuce venture resulting in a bigger batch of bunnies, moving into the neighborhood.
Some gardeners, prejudiced against bunnies,
would spark with fiery rage;
I don’t mind sharing.
Everyone must eat to survive.
What is it about a bluegrass banjo solo
That turns my crank and drives me loco
That foot tappin' beat
Can't control my feet
I freak out, guess I'm just a bluegrass banjo bozo
What is it about a bluegrass banjo solo
That turns my crank and drives me loco
That foot tappin' beat
Can't control my feet
I freak out, guess I'm just a bluegrass banjo bozo
What is it about a bluegrass banjo solo
That turns my crank and drives me loco
That foot tappin' beat
Can't control my feet
I freak out, guess I'm just a bluegrass banjo bozo
© Jack Ellison 2015
VERSE ONE:
Glory to the highest,the angel choir sings with glee.
For the King of Kings has saved my soul, he has set me free.
I have overcome the battle and I will join the jubilee.
For the mighty King of Glory,Died on the cross, for you and me.
CHORUS:
Come join the angel choir, sing with jubilee.
Come raise your hands and praise the Father.
He died on the cross for you and me.
We will join the choir together. up in heaven we will sing.
We will stand by the angels and sing hallehujah over there.
For on the cross it was our sin ,he took upon himself to bare.
VERSE:
Glory in the highest, sing infront of the Savior's throne.
Gather with the glorious angelband,Jesus took our sins for his own.
Up in heaven a mansion is waiting, for us to call our home.
All we have to do is claim him and our soul will never walk alone.
Must have a banjo
To get that Bluegrass sound
The bass is needed
To nail the rhythm down
Fiddle plays a lead
Tingles go up your spine
Guitar keeps the beat
Or picks melody line
The Mandolin chop
Makes the Bluegrass whole
Greater than its parts
Music of solid gold
Well I was drunk the day I got out of prison
I staggered down to the old corner store
As I walked in I drew my pistol
And I shot the clerk as I walked out the door
Well I made off with forty five dollars
A pack of Marlboro reds and a fifth of whiskey
I ran down by the edge of town
And thats where the sheriff found me and shot me down
They picked me up and drove me to the hospital
Patched my wounds and through me back in jail
Now Ill set here another thirty five years
And when I get out Ill be old as hell
B ill Monroe is its father
L ester Flat, its brother
U ntil you learn the Masters
E xpect a few disasters
G ood practice will bear good fruit
R eplaying songs from grassroots
A ttend a festival soon
S mile when you hear a good croon
S weet music keeps you in tune
I think there are just two types of Jams
The performance type is for the hams
The traditional type’s not the same
Just for each other, not for the fame
The performance Jam is my winner
Playing music to all the grinners
Probably why I started a band
Is for the thrill of getting a hand
I’ve been the host of two Jams for years
Had a few rules, but nothing to fear
Open to all, beginner or pro
Took turns doing the songs we know
Just acoustic instruments allowed
Strictly Bluegrass we played to a crowd
The jams that I host are all outside
If the weather’s bad, no place to hide
Banjos, guitars, fiddles, mandolins
Having several of these was no sin
The stand-up bass, you hurt without any
Got to have one, but two is too many
At jams you meet such interesting folks
Come for the music or for the jokes
Laughing and playing, have a good time
Hope to see you at a jam of mine
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