There was a man who lived in the Thirties.
He claimed he had lost all he had to attorneys
due to a bitter fight with a long gone ex
who caught him chasing women and having ***.
He had to hightail it outta town overnight.
Figured it was that or to stick around and fight.

So he rode the rails from town to town,
never staying long enough to settle down.
He was what they used to call back then, a hobo.
Not quite a *** but certainly low brow.

It was a hot summer's day down in San Berdoo
(that’s San Bernadino to you)
He walked down a backstreet,  just one of a few
like others with packs on their backs
looking for work - maybe hire on with a road crew.

He spotted a pug-nosed, three-legged dog
that tailed him for at least two blocks.
A curious little thing that shuffled when it walked.
Thinking it was lost or far from its home,
the owner not aware it might have been gone,
he filled a pan of water for the dog to drink.
It gave him pause to stop and think.

What was the story of this deformed pup ?
How had it lost its leg and wound up
roaming the streets scavenging for a bite to eat ?
Just about then, the man thought he heard a voice
come out from that pug-nose's throat.
"I’ve got a secret to share", it said, more like a boast.
The man could not believe his ears.
A talking dog, he thought.
I’m done for....I’m toast !

I’ve been hearing how things are going from bad to worse.
We remember how good the days were when we lived in the past.
But each new day brings a promise and each new path opens a door.
We need to do a bit better,
care a bit more,
expect a bit less and
love like only a child can love.
Then graciously receive the bounty that’s in store.

We lived in a mid-sized town
on a street called Elm.
Lined with trees that shaded sidewalks,
that cooled the summer heat
and kept the sun from burning your lawn.

The homes were all similar.
Built in the Fifties to house
veterans returning from both wars.
Dad came home with a grin,
presenting his new Chevy Bel Air,
turquoise and white with wide sidewalls.
I had to move my bike lying in the driveway
where I was told to keep it off
but somehow it always found its way back

We had a cocker called Molly
who wiggled her **** whenever she’d spot
you coming home, a small arf and a wag of her tail.
I had an older brother that tolerated me.
Every once in a while he’d tussle my hair
and called me kid,
even though he was only two years my senior.

Saturdays were my favorite.
Mom doled out our allowance.
Fifty cents was a big deal.
It would buy us a Saturday afternoon serial,
popcorn, red vines and pop.
So much for saving for a rainy day.

We lived close to Main street, just a few blocks away.
I loved to browse the hardware store,
smelling the newly greased wrenches,
tanned leather gloves, and work boots.

My friends and I all ran in a pack
and returned home at dusk,
usually just in time to smell the roast as mom
pulled it out of the oven.
Dinner was laid out on a chrome and red formica table
with matching chairs.
Molly sat close, eager for a small treat.

Memories, I have many.
Regrets, only a few.

That was spectacular, honey !

You're welcome, sweetie !

Half the country was conceived in the back of a Chevy.
In the dim lights of a drive-in movie
we would steal moments of bliss.
And in our youth we promised forever with every kiss.
Was it so long ago ?
Ages for you and me.
Pages written in ink
and stained in tears
in your secret diary.

Come hell or high water.
I lived my life as I saw fit.
Never looking back,
well, perhaps just a bit.
It's not my intention to steal the past
but I’m not fooling myself,
not for a minute.
This gig's not gonna last.

Come hell or high water
I'm gonna take it all.
I'll take the back roads,
take the highways,
before I fall.
Then suddenly I found I was in a bad place on a good day.
I stood on my toes as I faced the grim reaper.
I said get on now,
'cause I’m not ready to go.

It’s five o’clock in the morning,
coffee's already made.
It's gonna be warm in the valley
90 degrees in the shade.
The sunlight's creepin' in right through my window pane.
The coffee gets me going
so I can fight the world again.

It’s a daily ritual that passes
as I reach out for my glasses
and scan the front page headlines
for news that offends.
The world has so many problems,
we don’t seem to address.
If I had all the answers,
I would fix them all by myself.

You nurture my soul with peace and hope.
You keep my body whole
as we travel this long, long road.

Have you heard what they’ve done up at the mines ?
They’ve scarred the mountainside.
And driven away the elk and dear,
I’m afraid we’re next in line.

But I have you and that’s all that matters.
My haven in the storm,
a calm in troubled waters,
a home to keep us safe and warm.

Tonight when I get home
we'll dine under the stars.
I’ll say how much I love you
and how wonderful you are.

I heard three knocks on the door.
It was late, the fog crept over the porch.
The front door, poorly lit,
lent a shadow.
I called out , who’s there
and why have you come at this late hour ?
I have come for you, a voice whispered.

Fear struck through my body like a bolt.
I could not move and yet I had to see
what the next minutes would hold.

Another three knocks on the door,
ominous in its raps, insistent and steady.
The shadow moved against the light on the drape.
A slight breeze stirred the fog against the window's pane.
I dropped down on the floor.
Why have you come, I asked again.

I have come for you, the voice replied.