1. |
Ghost Apples
03:45
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We set out right at dawn
Our sights set upon
The orchards to be found to the west of us
All was icy and cold
The weatherman told
Everyone stay indoors, conditions are treacherous
But we say that’s no big deal
It’s all part of the appeal
What’s the point of living here, and living inside?
One-time opportunities
Take them with impunity
Fill the tires, fill the tank, ready to ride
Ghost apples, ghost apples await
Freezing rain made a pass
The whole world is made of glass
and the apples never picked from the fall
Their insides turn to slush
and give way in a gush
The shell of ice remaining is what we call
Ghost apples, ghost apples await
Yes we say it’s a big deal
Getting out is the appeal
Charge the cameras and load up the iPod
All the things that we must see
While we are at liberty
Charge the cameras and extend the tripod
Ghost apples, ghost apples await
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2. |
Making Fun Of Bitcoin
04:36
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My neighbor works late, late at night
From my window I can see his basement light
His time zone is GMT+9
That’s where all the best cryptocurrency is mined
Making fun of bitcoin with my friends
But I could have bought a bitcoin instead
My neighbor held an information session
At the local library, six attended
I was not among them; please get real
It seemed too sad to have any likely comic appeal
Making fun of bitcoin with my friends
But I could have bought a bitcoin instead
My neighbor is with his six new friends
From my window I keep tabs on them
All in all, a humdrum affair
For a bunch of newly minted paper millionaires
Making fun of bitcoin with my friends
But I could have bought a bitcoin instead
We should all be paper millionaires!
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3. |
A Painter Of Mild Renown
03:11
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He was a landscape painter of some repute
You can find his work in this or that institute
But not on the walls ― there isn’t the room
It’s offsite in a climate-controlled art-filled tomb
Along with a loom and some rare tapestries that no one ever sees
He was a landscape painter of mild renown
He won best in show in Tuckahoe or some such town
Depicting fishermen’s shanties and lobster traps
Nautical scenes of stormy seas and ships with masts
Drying cod! Harvesting sod!
As the corresponding secretary of a local artist’s guild
His plans to expand to a permanent home unfulfilled
He was a landscape painter, regarded well
In New Rochelle, I think it was, it’s hard to tell
Documentation can be sparse
With postwar representational art
The landscape was changing; all the more reason for painting
As the corresponding secretary of a local artist’s guild
His plans for a grand career retrospective unfilled
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4. |
The Steeplechase
03:07
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I run the steeplechase
Because my mates would rather place in an easier race
See them all gravitate
To the accolades
Of the relays
I run the steeplechase
At the risk I will slip and careen on my face
I could use longer legs
Some more skill and grace
If but a trace
I run the steeplechase
The respect that I get doesn’t quite compensate
Wearing my ankle brace
In seventh place
I go apace
One foot dry and one foot wet
I’ll clear that water pit yet
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5. |
Putting The Shot
02:43
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Putting the shot
Meet me around the back
Of the equipment shed
Far removed from the track
To me it’s great
No spectators to spectate
As I heave this heavy weight
Tossing the jav
It’s a Turbojav
With a soft foamy nose
For harmless throws
Real javelins are banned
They say that someone was lanced
It has the feel of a legend
Our coach is, like, fifty-seven
He says it was before his time
Whatever, it’s fine
Hurling the disc
There’s not much to discuss
I’m just trying to learn
The one-and-a-half turns
Managing my speed
The angle of release
It’s all of a piece
It’s all ancient Greece
I’ll throw whatever they need
All for the team
To me it’s fine
No spectators to mind
As I crouch and unwind
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6. |
Special Delivery
03:57
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I am a bicyclist for the post office
Folks pay an extra dime to save a little time
And send their correspondence special delivery
They get a bright blue stamp and me in my livery
I set out each day with my weighty canvas pack
The Santa Ana breeze pushes gently at my back
Row after row of orange groves
When I reach the foothills, my pace slows
Miss Becky Jane Joplin,
I don’t mean to sound annoyed
As it’s you and your kind who keep me gainfully employed
But your driveway is long and your driveway is steep
And the letters I bring you don’t run very deep
Becky Jane Joplin!
Becky Jane Joplin!
Becky Jane Joplin!
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7. |
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My name is Becky Jane Joplin
My name is Becky Jane
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
But to myself I’m someone else
I have a beau, his name is Morris
He writes me every day from college
Each one sent Special Delivery
I haven’t even opened the last three
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
My name is Becky Jane
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
But to myself I’m someone else
As for the postman who brings them
Lately I’ve been feeling bad for him
Pushing his bike, I see him suffer
and so I greet him with a glass of water
One day he let slip
He once worked on a merchant ship
Sailing o’er the southern sea
If only that could be me
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
My name is Becky Jane
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
But to myself I’m someone else
As for the postman who brings them
Lately I’ve falling hard for him
Setting my heart all a-flutter
as I greet him with a glass of water
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
My name is Becky Jane
My name is Becky Jane Joplin
But to myself I’m someone else
Call me Rebecca!
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8. |
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The day the gondola fell to the ground everyone told me how lucky I was
Lucky that the wind, while strong, was not even stronger
That the distance I fell, while long, was not even longer
Lucky that I was just seventeen because I could have been older
Lucky that it was just seventeen because it could have been colder
I am here to set the record straight
I am here to make the opposing case
I’m not lucky, I’m unlucky
Fantastically unlucky
They told me I was lucky my helmet proved to be a good shock absorber
But earlier if I’d had the nerve to chat up that cute snowboarder
I would not have been there at all; I’d’ve been in the lodge by the fire
Instead they tell me I’m lucky for injuries because they were minor
I am here to set the record straight
I am here to state the opposing case
I’m not lucky, I’m unlucky
Spectacularly unlucky
Nobody tells me things could have been better
Only they could have been worse
Can’t you see, that’s a fallacy
The reality’s the reverse
I am here to set the record straight
I am here to make an emphatic case
I’m not lucky, I’m unlucky
U-N-L-ucky
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9. |
Fogtown
04:13
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Here in the fog it’s just me and the crows
Scavenging the crumbs
Dropped by wobbly toddlers the day before
Over there, a solitary chair
The cellist’s chair from a string quartet, I bet
And joining me in the fog
A man and his dog
A game begins that has no end ―
Throw the ball, throw it again
Here in the fog sit absolutely still
Feel the droplets as they land
On the back of your hand
The faint echo of a cello
From the bandstand
Yes, I am on cloud nine
Or better I should say inside cloud nine
Where the sun don’t shine and clouds one through eight
They lie in wait
Fogtown
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Harriet Records Port Jefferson, New York
I ran Harriet Records between 1989 and 1998 out of Cambridge, MA. I released 10 CDs (most of which are available here) and
45 singles. There are 11 "new" releases so far, most recently the Coronets (London, ca 2000) and Kisswhistle (Pittsburgh). New releases next year by Chris Barickman, the Lookout Honeys, and a follow-up Ekphrastics CD!
-- Tim Alborn
... more
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