Condemned Men

Here's the lyric to a song I wrote forty (yes, forty) years ago, and came on in my files. Sort of overly poetic folk-punk stuff, I guess, but I would be willing to perform (or  record) it still.

CONDEMNED MEN

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Live as you can, die as you must.
Men grow old, steel becomes rust,
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Never sing another man's song
Nor follow him in right or wrong.
The struggles all go to the strong,
Never sing another man's song.

We are all condemned men,
Doomed to lose, doomed to win.
Some do good, some will sin,
We are all condemned men.

We are afloat upon strange tides,
Over dark seas our vessel rides.
Who can find the need to take sides?
We are afloat upon strange tides.

Life must ever pass away,
It matters not that we may pray.
None will count how much we pay,
Life must ever pass away.

Stephen Brooke ©1986 

Vultures' Vacation

 

A rather old song about the vultures I used to see in Mayo Florida. A few out there would have heard me perform it in years gone by. When I lived in Steinhatchee, my father was, for a while, under care at the facility there and I would drive up frequently. The vultures congregating on the city water tower were hard to miss! I debuted this song at a coffeehouse down Tampa way, when I was still willing and able to do a lot of traveling.

My Mojo

 This is a song (yes, with music) I wrote quite a long time ago but never got to recording. A sixteen bar blues, more or less, and decidedly not serious (as much of my stuff). I do intend to get scratch recordings accomplished of all those songs sitting in my files. My attention has been too focused on writing fiction recently and what music career I had fell by one wayside or another. Here's My Mojo's Missin':

Storms in Steinhatchee

I lived in Steinhatchee Florida for several years before relocating to the Panhandle region. The town has its good and bad, like any other, but as the news has pointed out it has never before been hit by a major hurricane. Idalia has changed that.

Anyway, that got me to  remembering the Storm of the Century, the storm that clobbered the area in the spring of 1993.  I was there and remember the storm surge—including waking in the wee hours and finding ankle deep water in my place!. It got way deeper before things were over. I don't know how the surge compared with that of Idalia but it looks to have been comparable. Of course, this was a winter cyclone. The winds were heavy but not hurricane strength (much less Category 3). But it was a heck of a lot colder.

I borrowed some from that experience for scenes in my very first novel, the Young Adult title 'The Middle of Nowhere.' I also had to write a song about it. Not necessarily a 'true' personal account but one based on the event:

THE STORM OF THE CENTURY

March Twelfth, Nineteen Ninety-three,
That’s when the Storm of the Century
Came ravening from the wind-swept Gulf,
Howling like the hungry wolf.
When the Storm of the Century came calling,
When the Storm of the Century came calling.

The wind was throwing knives at the night,
And startled the clouds into sheepish flight;
I heard the black oaks together sigh
As they offered themselves to the sky.
In the dark, I prayed the storm would pass,
But the river was rising, the field was a glass
Where the moon played hide-and-seek with its twin,
While the endless ebon flood poured in.

And it was time to take higher ground,
But there’s not a lot to be found
In a Florida Gulf Coast town
When the Storm of the Century comes calling,
Oh, comes calling.

The river came knocking at my door,
The icy flow swept across the floor
To clutch at my ankles as I made my way
Into the gale, for I could not stay.
With two guitars and the clothes on my back,
I waded through the night with black
Water rushing around my knees;
The remorseless wind shouted symphonies.

And it was time to take higher ground,
But there’s not a lot to be found
In a Florida Gulf Coast town
When the Storm of the Century comes calling,
Oh, comes calling.

I saw a light, I climbed a stair,
Strangers gave me shelter there;
Some didn’t reach the dawn alive
But God agreed I should survive,
When the Storm of the Century came calling,
When the Storm of the Century came calling.

Stephen Brooke ©2003