Emmylou Harris, Hank Williams : Drifting Too Far From The Shore

The Immortal Jukebox

Out on the perilous deep
Where dangers silently creep

I’m gonna die today.

29 last month.

And, I’m gonna die today.

Consider this my last letter.

About 12 hours from now I’m gonna take that slow walk.

To The Chair.

To The Chair.

I been drifting too far from the shore for a long time now.

Drifting too far.

Counting down the hours sets your mind thinking all right.

Mine goes back to the beginning.

A cabin in the Piney Woods.

Listening to the radio at night with the moon and stars shining through the windows and ol’ Bill Monroe (with Mama’s harmony) singing me to sleep.

Ain’t no one sing like Bill.

Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o’ershadow the sky

There’s many a guy in here who’ll look you straight in the eye and tell you they is innocent.

Not one of them telling the truth.

Well…

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A little reflection.

Calm of morning

Brings the return of night voices

Sleep, though erratic

Filled with dreams.

 

They are nights companion

Cradled in duck down pillow

Some with a tone of sadness

Pillow words.

 

Some of which come morning

Appear unclear

Mostly, those with a tone of sadness

Night voices, take an excursion on a mystery train.

(c) Chris Black. November 2017.