Song Lyrics

I've been a songwriter for much of my life, although not as a career. I've done a one-act musical for a theme park and also scripted musical theatre for young people. I find song lyrics challenging yet relaxing, because the lyricist can get away with so much more than is possible with 'literary' poetry.  Predictable rhyme, clichéd expressions, forced syntax -- they can all be found in some of the world's most memorable music. Many pop songs are really bad poetry, but since they're also composed of melody, rhythm and background tracks, the lyrics can be secondary to the form. I do try to draw upon my background as a poet in order to create something original.

I have melodies in my head for each of them, because I find it necessary to "hear" what I'm writing. I could easily play and sing these songs according to my rough arrangements, but would prefer to let the musician invent his or her own tunes to fit personal tastes. I consider myself a lyricist only.

I'll try to dig up some of my older work as well as posting newer ones here. This is a page-in-constant-progress, so please check back every now and then. There are more where these came from. If anyone out there would like to publish and/or use my lyrics for performance, please contact me and we can work out something of mutual benefit. All lyrics are (c) Brenda Tate and all rights are reserved. None may be reproduced in any way without my express written permission (my email address is at the bottom of this page). Thank you.

I love to use metaphor for poetry, and for songs as well. The grasslands in the first one represent a couple's relationship, that should have been full of openness and honesty but got lost to other concerns. I'm not so sure I like my speaker very much but I do feel his pain (or her ... but I usually picture him as male).

Grasslands

The moonlight throws itself across the prairie,

so I can watch my shadow ripple home.

It crawls beneath that big and hollow sky.

I think of you as evening staggers by.

 

If this old porch could mutter all its secrets,

I wonder what surprising words I’d hear.

So much has been invisible, I guess:

you never showed me your unhappiness.

 

Now the red-tailed hawk screams against the air,

so I turn to talk to you but you’re not there.

The wind keeps blowing the sun away

and I wish you would come back to me.

We’d walk across that sea

of grasslands.

 

I’ve spent too many lives in bricks and concrete,

wrapped up so tight that I can hardly breathe.

You always tried to make me take it slow.

I sighed and said how you were free to go.

 

The crickets call out like unwanted memories.

I wonder if they know how soon they’ll die?

If I could sing for you, I might not mind

these wheels of stars that leave me far behind.

 

Now the red-tailed hawk screams against the air,

so I turn to talk to you but you’re not there.

The wind keeps blowing the sun away

and I wish you would come back to me.

We’d run across that sea

of grasslands.

 

But the wind’s still blowing the sun away,

and it tells me I can‘t stay

on the grasslands. 

 

(c) 2006 Brenda Tate

 

 

 

 

 

The song "When Daddy Calls My Name" is definitely a country-gospel kind of thing. I've made it strongly rhythmic with a lot of internal and end rhyme. The interpretation of "Daddy" can be taken two ways. My father actually did pass away in the hospital during a televised hockey game, while Wayne Gretzky was still with the Oilers. Dad loved Edmonton and got very agitated when he thought they were losing. His heart, already very weak, gave out on him. He never got to celebrate Edmonton's victory, as they ultimately won that game!

 

Dad was an oldtime naval officer who loved the sea (although he couldn't swim). He and my mother had a few special spots along the coast, and she privately committed his ashes to the ocean off a wharf in one of those places. A few months after his death, I had a particularly vivid dream in which he and I sat together in a hilly village overlooking a bay filled with ships. It was a wonderful scene and he seemed happy there. We chatted for awhile and he, an agnostic to the end, then assured me, "Brenda, I never expected this but there's more ...". Then I woke up. I've never forgotten that dream, vision or whatever it was. It was not repeated. Perhaps it didn't need to be.

 

This is one song I would especially love for someone to discover and record. 

 

When Daddy Calls My Name

 

 

He was lying in Room 223,

just watching a hockey game,

when his old heart told him, “Time to leave,”

and they say he spoke my name,

as the nurses gathered ‘round him.

Then the doctor sighed, “He’s gone.”

He released his soul with the winning goal, *

while the TV cheered him on.

 

And I wonder if that silver cup

was laid at my father’s feet.

Did he find somewhere in the open air

where the sky and ocean meet?

Has he changed much since I saw him last?

Does his face still look still the same?

I hope I learn the answers

when Daddy calls my name.

 

It’s funny how a single phrase

keeps circling around my head

like the paper wings of a dragonfly,

with a message I once read:

Lo, I am with you always.

Do I still believe that’s true?

But I feel him near and I sometimes hear

him breathe, “I’m watching you.”

 

And I wonder if that silver cup

was laid at my father’s feet.

Did he find somewhere in the open air

where the sky and ocean meet?

Has he changed much since I saw him last?

Does his face still look still the same?

I hope I learn the answers

when Daddy calls my name.

 

Now the years are blurring by me,

and my mother’s headed home

where the hills are low, and the sea winds blow

over countries made of foam.

I can see them both together

on the bright and endless sand;

as the shore birds dance to the tide’s advance,

Daddy laughs and takes her hand.

 

And I wonder if those silver cups

were laid at my parents’ feet.

Did they find somewhere in the open air

where the sky and ocean meet?

Have they changed much since I saw them last?

Do their faces look the same?

I believe I’ll learn the answers

when they smile and call my name.

 

Oh, I know I’ll stop to answer,

when Daddy calls my name.

 

(c) 2006 Brenda Tate

 

*alternate line 7 for those who want to emphasize a Christian-gospel theme:

 

Jesus caught his soul with the winning goal

 

 

 

The butterfly is an ancient symbol of the soul 

 

The next song, "Yesterday's Woman", is more complex in terms of its basic lyrical structure. I was working with a rather unusual rhyme scheme (abcdebfd) so that lines 2-4-6-8 were all connected. I'm aiming for a wistful and slightly mysterious effect with this one. This woman sums up many of the kinds of losses I've also endured over the years. I didn't want the speaker to actually explain what had happened and whether she physically walked away, or maybe even died.

 

 

Yesterday's Woman

 

She told you she’d be there forever

and somehow she made you believe

that a shy, clumsy man from the country

mattered more than a playboy or prince.

She said there was no goal or vision

you should give up or fail to achieve

if you left it to God and your power within,

and so you weren’t hard to convince.

 

Now she’s yesterday’s woman, a shadow outside your back door,

you hope that she’s waiting but never can really be sure.

And her outline’s as frail as a butterfly’s wing,

her memory’s softer than rain in the spring,

but you wish just once more she would hold you in sleep, and you cry

for the one who’s become just a blur at the edge of your eye.

 

She promised she’d care for you always,

no matter how hard the world froze,

and you’d turn to each other for comfort,

when bitter winds rattled and screamed.

If you twisted and shivered in nightmares,

then she’d wake you by kissing your nose,

and stroke her soft fingers across your bare skin,

till you laughed at the demons you’d dreamed.

 

Now she’s yesterday’s woman, a shadow outside your back door,

you hope that she’s listening but never can really be sure.

And her outline’s as frail as a butterfly's wing,

her memory’s softer than rain in the spring,

but you wish just once more she would hold you in sleep, and you cry

for the one who’s become just a blur at the edge of your eye.

 

But she kissed you good-bye and just vanished

like mist on the fresh morning air.

She’s a shape in your head that won’t focus,

and a photograph fading to pale.

Though you stand at your window and argue

that you’ve lost every reason to care,

your mind wanders down the old road into town,

half-imagining she’ll meet you there.

 

Oh she’s yesterday’s woman, a shadow outside your back door,

you hope that she’s watching but never can really be sure.

And her outline’s as frail as a butterfly’s wing,

her memory’s softer than rain in the spring,

but you wish just once more she would hold you in sleep, and you cry

for the one who’s become just a blur at the edge of your eye,

at the edge of your eye.

 

(c) 2006 Brenda Tate

 

 

 

The following is a song which I scripted as part of a scene I had created for the stage production "Tomorrow's Dream", mainly written by George Egan, a fellow teacher. George and I collaborated as directors and writers for several full-length plays and original musicals, beginning in 1987 and ending in 1992. Matt, the protagonist in this scene, is trying to deal with the sudden death of his closest friend. He feels responsible because he didn't intervene in the conflict that ultimately killed Josh, when both were residents of a group home for troubled youth. I'll provide a link to scenes from that show and the larger website, which is devoted to 440 Productions. I initiated the English 440 drama-oriented program at Yarmouth High School way back in 1989 and after three years, departed on a leave of absence, whereupon Mr. Egan took over the course. He ultimately changed its direction to film and created a series of wartime stories as testimonials to the character and heritage of our heroic veterans. The website chronicles this development under his capable tutelage.  http://www.440productions.ca/gal-9293.htm

 

 

I Let Down My Friend

 

Voice #1 (Matt):

 

I know it’s not working out for me;

no matter how hard I try

there’s always another wound to heal,

another tear to cry.

I thought I could exorcise my pain

and leave all my ghost behind,

but ghosts can come back to life again

to feed on the fears that they find.

 

I let down my friend when I let down my guard –

no one could have told me it would be so hard!

Though some people say life turns out for the best (enter Josh)

that never quite applied to me. I’m not like the rest.

I’m not like the rest.

 

Voice #2 (Josh, the ghost of Matt’s lost friend)

 

Self-pity gets you nowhere.

Tomorrow’s waiting out there …

 

Voice #1 (Matt):

 

Though just for awhile I could believe

I’d end up a happy man,

I found it was only a short reprieve,

before the storm began.

I wish you were standing by my side,

like the brother I never knew (Josh (unheard): I’m here, Matt. I’m here.)

 

I let down my friend when I let down my guard –

no one could have told me it would be so hard!

Though some people say life turns out for the best

that never quite applied to me. I’m not like the rest.

I’m not like the rest. (Josh (echo): You’re not like the rest.)

 

Matt: Josh! I’m so sorry. (light fades, leaving him in darkness)

 

Josh: (alone as light also fades on him) Why won’t you hear me?

 

Blackout.

 

 

 

 

 

This next song, "Nobody Cries Alone", is hardly one of my more creative efforts! But I wrote it while working on a docudrama called "Where Can I Go?" that I had scripted. It was about domestic violence and partly filmed in a local women's shelter called Juniper House. Eastlink TV still shows it every now and then. We didn't end up using this song in the movie but I wanted to save it anyhow, just to remind myself of the whole experience. It is meant to be sung to a new arrival in a hypothetical women's shelter, by another woman who's already a resident there. Here's a link to info about the video itself (cover photos include my daughter at left, who was one of the performers, and a faint ugly one of myself at lower right, made up for the role of a battered wife). http://www.juniperhouse.ca/ Just click "Video".

 

  

Nobody Cries Alone

 

Nobody cries alone.

The moon will come, to hear and soothe you.

There’s always quiet rain

that trickles down your face, and then erases pain.

There’s trust and truth

in the heart of a caring friend.

and the touch of an anxious child’s

forgiving hand.

 

Nobody hurts alone.

and if you turn, you’ll find an angel,

who never lets you drop,

with undemanding arms and strength enough to stop

your darkest terrors

from chasing you through the day,

when your life is lost in hell,

and you’ve run away.

 

Nobody stays alone.

A light of hope and freedom shows your path.

You’ll find a sheltered rest

in a future you couldn’t imagine. Now, the best

of what you are inside,

will shine in your eyes.

for you’re here in a brave new place

 --- where nobody cries ... alone

yeah, nobody cries, uh-huh,

nobody cries.

 

The next song is pure blues The rhyme and rhythmic patterns are looser and more open to variations. it's another one I'd love to hear in an arrangement.

Dancin' with the Blues Man

I'm searchin' for white orchids, by the river of my sleep.

A summer moon is watchin' me, as the silence drops so deep.

I'm just a shadow on the current, where the mist is blowin' grey.

Sometime that water's gonna rise,

and just ferry me away.

For now, I'm in the silver-swimmin' darkness of the sky,

with midnight closin' hard on me, full of tears that I can't cry.

But a ragged line of old jack pine starts riffin' to the wail

of the Blues Man's steel harmonica,

callin' down that cold star trail.

Chorus:

I don't need no golden halo;

I don't want no rock and chain.

When I'm dancin' with the Blues Man,

I know you're here with me again.

I can shed this pain I'm wearin',

while the music makes me new,

and these wanderin' steps that I can't forget -

retrace the lonely years to you.

I don't need no golden halo;

I don't want no rock and chain.

When I'm singin' with the Blues Man,

I know that you've come back again.

I can see your wild hair flyin',