1. Sickly Friar 2. Fathoms Deep 3. Brave and the Bold
4. Ventura Rag 5. Ventura Rag 6. Silver Starved
7. Carpathia 8. Spiral Galaxy 9. Lonely Monk
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Sickly Friar

Hear my prayer, hear my woe
England fights infernal foes
A thousand serfs succumbed to sores in just this month, my Lord

What’s a man of faith to do?
A poultice here, a passage there
To leave a hell subdued?

Every morning, kneeling by a bedside
Every evening, laboring in a graveyard
Lord have mercy

Though I beg my daily bread
Plague has scarred my good regard
Allow me an ale instead

Charlatans and profiteers
Fool their folds, collect their gold
And quickly disappear

Bishops flagellate their groins,
Cardinals are counting coins,
Royalty and vassals, cloistered in their castles
Feast on boar and wine

Shine thy grace down on me, my Lord!

Fathoms Deep

the peck of a seagull jolts me awake
the first thing I've felt in almost a day
ocean, in every which way

the biscuits, the bacon, the rancid old cheese
none of them lasted for more than a week
my body is skin beard and bone

night falls upon me, still as a tomb
nought but the silver light of the moon
hopeless and wretched, and barely alive
fighting against my will to survive

imprisoned by the sea and sky
somebody snatch me away!
I'd always dreamed that I'd gracefully age
laid down to die in a comfortable grave

finally I feel my life slipping away
at last I will know where the ghost goes
what will await me, what not of this earth
will I find happiness, hell or rebirth?

over the side my corpse it glides...

never once, I've never felt something so comfortable, soothing and safe in my life
my dread dissolved and my pain eclipsed, while terrible beasts gnaw my fingertips

My body sinks through india ink
picked to the bone by the hungry little fish
I come to rest on the sands of the sea
my funeral held by the crabs of the deep

Brave and the Bold

in a land of wind and ashes
dusty skies and snapping branches
desperate villages are praying for a rainfall

nothing but a salty tear
has wet the ground in thirty years
A man in search of water goes tearing through the brambles

after twenty days of pain
miles across an open plain
in shrouds of fog

a mountain rises up so high
its icy spires stab the sky
its dreadful snaking shadow throws miles into darkness

step by step by step brings him closer to those sheer granite walls
foot by foot he climbs risking almost certain death should he fall

the desert below disappears
while slowly the summit draws near

far past normal exhaustion
eventually he conquers the peak
he heaves his last breath and gives up the ghost as his spent broken body collapses in snow
the quake of his fall starts an avalanche down, down glaciers down icebergs down vast hills of snow

down the mountain a wide river flows
splashing and soaking the dust down below
thirsy ground and the water agree
sprouting the sleeping seeds

patient valleys are filled to the brim
the dry cracking earth is now soaked to the skin
years go by and it never goes dry
and still the story is told time and again
of hardship and cold-
until the end, the brave and the bold
will write human history time and again

Nilsson

Awake at last, Harry fixes up a bowl of Wheaties
runs out to the market just to buy some maraschino cherries
his milk's delivered in a bottle topped wtih cream
by psychedlic blimps and flying submarines
he lunches on some macaroni and cheese
root beer and a healthy slab of tin canned sardines

entire plates of lettuce eaten in a bite
he scarfs down mashed potatoes with a mince meat pie
he wipes his chin, and figures it wouldn't hurt
to eat himself a fudgesicle- his favorite dessert!
his favorite dessert

The Ventura Rag
Atop a hill, two trees look down
Along the coast of California overlooking my favorite seaside town
And yonder there, peeking through the palms
Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, San Miguel and Anacapa soak in the brilliant blue
The home of the famous surfing dog
The home of Franky’s neon frog
You know the place, Ventura, you’re my home

Busy Bee’s, Nicholby’s, Souci and Zoey’s, Bank of Books, Café Nouveau and the Ave
Thrift stores, missions, a wealth of tradition, and a fig tree that’s older than you’d care to believe
If I’m shuffling sideways on the sidewalk and looking for something to see
I amble on down to Main Street and have a seat, thinking of the fact (and I'm sure you'd agree)
What a smash that the cliques don’t clash and all sorts of folks come to tea
Buff barbarians and scrawny vegetarians sharing a spot by the sea
Old Ventura, vantastic as they come

The county fair happens every year
with a couple hundred goats, sheep and fancy chickens not to mention enormous pigs
Hop on your bike and pedal through the streets
folks you meet will greet you with a smile even if they haven't brushed their teeth
the home of a fine mixed nut brigade
the home of the stray cat pride parade
You know the one- Ventura you're my home

North of Oxnard, south of Santa Barbara, west of Simi Valley, east of Honolulu
Everybody listen up, close your mouth and zip it shut, grab your stuff and move your butt
eclectic is in style in our home of Ventura, CA

Silver Starved

through the cracks between the planks of a tiny shack
feeble light leaks out piercing early morning black
bandits whisper of horses guns and silver
planning out a trap for the bold attack

dawns snap with winter cold
awaken men with greed for gold
pounding hooves and frozen breath
treasure won or a violent death!

crossing rivers hills and valleys
stallions push a surging pace
through the pass between the mountains
silver by the brick awaits

pulled along at a steady clip, loaded with metal and mail
a coach with armored guard flies, kicking up dust from the trail
thieves descend the canyon walls, the coach is caught by surprise
shots exchange and with shouts of rage they all fight for their lives!

twelve bled, eight men are dead, their bodies bloat in the sun, vultures fly overhead
withdrawn, the silver is gone, sacks of ingots and ore to be smelted and poured
scraped and bruised, they lick at their wounds, drinking bourbon and rye and thanking God they survived

the time had come for the ones who laid down their lives
and without a doubt every soul perished with pride

Spiral Galaxy

pick a point up in the sky
emptiness in great supply
linger there with your naked eye
not a whole lot to keep you enticed

wasn't long, some years ago
an Englishman, with his telescope
found a place out of a dream
that ripped our world apart at the seams

what he had thought was a boring old dust cloud
merely a stone's throw in space
turned out a galaxy appeared through the eyepiece
a million light years away

when Earth was born, and when it dies
this galaxy remains bright and sublime
undiscovered, and spinning for eons
though we never knew it, it waits patiently for our eyes to see

knowledge from nothing in less than a day, shattering stagnant beliefs
time passes on and our wonder forgotten, conviction becomes our relief
how many mysteries await our awareness?
have you really figured it out?
we're millions of light years away
millions of light years away
so far from the insights of day
we’re millions of light years away
but all it takes
is a day