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Joined: Dec 2000
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An Unkindness of Ravens ©2016 Robert George BMI
Me and my old donkey loped across the barren flatland And my only weapon was the cross tucked in my hatband We rode down a valley of mesquite and many thistles And the four winds in the sunset were like pennywhistles I could see that cow town looming in the distance And I knew we’d make it there by moonrise with persistence Cemetery Hill was just a mile outside that old town And I saw a hunchback lay a tiny coffin in the cold ground And a grieving mother knelt down by the gravesite weeping And his hand upon her shoulder said her boy was only sleeping Hounds began to howl and vermin rustled in the alleys And there came a ghostly chill, black clouds gathered on the hill And they blotted moonlight from the valley
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
I passed through a farm with acres that were dry n dusty Crickets crawled across an axe and pitchfork that were rusty Then I rode through town and saw that windows had been boarded Sour breezes filled the streets and ev’ry breath was sordid I recalled that town was founded by a cattle baron And back then I felt a passion for his daughter Karen I was just a young priest fresh from Tulane Seminary But I lost my church and collar to her poison cherry Long before me she’d corrupted many saints and martyrs With her laudanum and lace and leather belts and garters When I held her I had felt her deeper than a lover When we coupled, merged and kissed her dark hair seemed to hover
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Well, I passed the empty laundry and the livery stable Hitched my donkey near the bar and took a window table A one-legged girl pianist played some hymns and dirges While a cowboy walked upstairs to satisfy his urges That pianist’s hair was tinted with the hue of honey But just like before the whores took all the cowboys’ money Well, I tipped that girl a whiskey and a silver dollar And I asked about the town I’d known as Titus Holler She said there were strangers hereabouts like Swedes and Cajuns Rumors flew of Pinkertons and other hired agents There’d been wicked night wings perched upon the Baptist steeple There’d been death and devil spawn, something unknown fed upon This village and its people
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Some say they’re a flying hearse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Until recently few maladies had proven fatal Snakes bites here and there or infants dying in their cradle Sometimes drunk prospectors fall and drown in flooded sluices Rowdy lynch mobs hangin’ rustlers in a grove of spruces Ropes around their necks they’d stand upon a wood crate scaffold Some men’s eyes would bulge, some went blank and some looked baffled Lady Primrose snuck out to the wetlands with a squire Then a wig and derby were found floating in the mire Since then spooks were spotted near the ruins of the Spanish Mission Some repented of their deeds, clutched their crosses and their beads Full of fear and superstition And just last night some poor child had been exsanguinated And some locals think the evil omens are related
To an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Old Doc Seward was a sawbones, dentist, vet and undertaker He’d mend you and your mule and then help you meet your Maker Seward’s wrists and elbows were afflicted with arthritis It took hours and a quart of hooch to take an arm from Old man Titus And though that procedure would be painful, long and risky Seward never offered Titus one drop of that whiskey Her own leg was crushed beneath a pig when she was seven Yet she swore his shaky saw delayed her flight to heaven Before he left old Seward said the village had a virus And although his words were vague, he described a plague Older than Anubis or Osiris It was like the children of a mystic, dark Madonna Picked the skeleton of this fat cow town like piranha
Or an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Then she said there’s no one left to press her dress or groom her filly With Marie long gone this town feels lost without her café’s chili And since old man Titus passed the town has seemed misguided Few believe in what the city fathers have decided Hopsing’s Chinese laundry and his stable are deserted Some say his proposal to Marie was poorly worded And the new young Pastor wouldn’t sanctify their marriage They said their vows anyhow, and left there in a horse and carriage Sheriff Wilson took off with his fam’ly last week in a wagon With ten kinfolk packed in tight that ragged rig was draggin’ And someone behind the scenes had pulled the strings with cunning Some townfolk were dead, some townfolk had fled But me I had no stake in running
From an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
When she said “goodnight” I walked up slowly to my room Laid my hat beside the bed and lent my thoughts to gloom And I dreamt about a tiny box inside a hateful hole There were leaning crosses and dark wings on mossy stones And I wondered if there was a way some lonely bones Were a withered vessel for a free and grateful soul
Maybe all those eerie dreams provided me a warning Cos I heard a knocking at my window in the dark of morning Floating outside was a boy whose face and hair were muddy Clods of sod were clinging to his blazer and his teeth were bloody Though I headed for the door and my poor mind was muddled What was waiting in the hallway left me even more befuddled It was Karen and I felt my fleshly heart turn traitor She was lovely and my greed for sin was even greater Any moron can resist a graven idol But desire is a bronco that few men can bridle Then she looked into my eyes and threw her arms around me I smelled foulness at my neck and felt her hair surround me
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse some say they’re a flying hearse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Well, I grabbed my cross and pressed it up against that demon Sulphur smoke poured off her pale skin and she started screamin’ She dove through the glass and bore the boy on wings of evil And I thought of legends superstitious and medieval Shibboleths of haunted castles that were European Spooks who hailed from hoodoo islands in the Caribbean Such a thing had passed through town and Karen was infected Now she reigns as queen and innocents must be protected I had much to be atoned for and my faith was tested I deduced these demons had a lair where they nested
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
First I feared for that pianist in her little shack She’d invite a boy in not suspecting an attack And her breast would fill with futile silent screams There were ranchers’ houses just outside of town Gentlemen in long johns…Ladies fair in evening gowns And their breaths could end in brutal violent dreams
With his tweed suit, curved pipe, spectacles and thinning white hair Giles sat down to read and left the window open for the night air He read Chaucer’s sonnets and sev’ral of Lord Byron’s And then fell prey to a trio of seductive sirens Seth the fiddler kept the Torah down to ev’ry jot and tittle Soon he’ll hover outside windows with his crimson fangs and fiddle There’s a shadow looming near the old hunchback grave digger And he pulled his pistol but he never pulled the trigger I unhitched my donkey when the darkness had retreated We rode westward for a weapon that I needed One thing I was sure of…Karen’s brood was quickly breeding But only darkness knows, where the dead repose When they’re finished feeding
Like an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
I returned and searched the hotel rooms with daylight’s blessing Karen could be anywhere and I was only guessing And that top floor had been painted like a Mexican bordello Rooms were red and brown and some were trimmed in yellow When I checked that last room it was almost nightfall She was in a purple armoire near a pink and white wall She was sleeping peaceful and she had a ghostly pallor And I told myself my desp’rate deeds were mostly valor I petitioned God for power and my heart grew bolder And I swung that farmer’s rusty axe above her shoulders Then a spray of dark foam spattered on her lace and leather Black blood burst out from her neck just like a thousand feathers
From an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Some say they’re a flying hearse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Well, the sun had almost vanished from the western sky So I ran downstairs and dumped out jugs of rye And my hat and cross were specked with scarlet stains Went out to my donkey then I tossed a match inside Checked on the pianist and I offered her a ride And she held me tightly as we crossed the starlit plains
Lightning forked the distant foothills just like varicose veins And the damned rode straight to hell in funeral cars of ghost trains And the night wind carried echoes of my donkey braying And the haunted bowing of a demon’s fiddle playing Righteous men who stray will find redemption is a strange brew Just a mouthful from its ancient mystic cup can change you Although there are many things ahead of us we don’t see We have faith the wings awaiting our demises won’t be
From an unkindness of ravens Some feel they’re a curse Others say they’re something worse That those forsaken by the light Are then taken by the night Into an unkindness of ravens
Two months later near a brothel outside Monterrey There’s a young whore feeding kittens in an alleyway And the moon is decorated by a silver wreath And there’s a hunchback with a wicked grin and pointed teeth…[i][/i]
Last edited by couchgrouch; 07/02/16 04:17 AM.
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Joined: Jun 2006
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Joined: Dec 2000
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Thanks Jim...and you deserve a medal for wading through all that.
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Joined: Dec 2000
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If this was mine I'd.... What AM I saying. I could NEVER EVER accomplish something like this. Oh and added kudos for exsanguinated
If writing ever becomes work I think I'm going to have to stop
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Joined: Nov 2010
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This is an epic. I found myself singing along to the tune of "A hard Rain's gonna fall". Excellent write.
Vic
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Joined: Dec 2000
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Thanks guys. I was mentally exhausted after writing this and have just written my first two lyrics since.
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Joined: Dec 2000
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Bump.
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Joined: Dec 2016
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Wow, I used to get grief about my "long" poems that were but a haiku compared to this. It's an incredible effort to pen something this long with a rhyme scheme, and I appreciate what it must have taken. Thanks for sharing.
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Joined: Dec 2000
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thanks DJ...I think it took about eight hours. it was pretty grueling but I'm fairly proud of it. I hope to look back on it with a similar pride as I get older.
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Joined: Dec 2000
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Bump for All Hallows...
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Joined: Jun 2009
Posts: 113
Serious Contributor
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Posts: 113 |
THIS. IS. EPIC.
Robert, I bow to your skill. I had chills all the way through.
Pure genius.
There are no more new frontiers.. We have got to make it here
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Thanks Ruby. If you like this, have a listen to the Underground Railroad medley on the mp3 forum.
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Joined: Feb 2005
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Just curious... I know this is a fairly old lyric-post... but I wonder if you ever recorded it? I'm guessing that... IF YOU DID RECORD IT... it would probably take three sessions... LOL!
I have trouble remembering my own lyrics and despite the wonderful storytelling here... I don't believe a person with incredible memory skills could get it done in one session. Then, if commercial viability is to be considered... unless you get a big name artist to record it... the five minute rule is probably going to spell "doom" from the start.
My advice, fool that I am, would be to begin whittling and do your best to pare the story... "Song" if you will... down to something less than four minutes.
It really is a great story. Perhaps you might prefer to turn it into a Novel! LOL!
Finally, I wish you wouldn't give poor Ravens such a bad rap!
Thanks for sharing... and I hope you know I'm only poking a little fun at you... and feel free to poke right back at me!
All the best, ----Dave
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Dave, this was originally an idea for a novel. At the time I thought I didn't have it in me to write a book. I just finished my fourth and I'm proofing it before it goes on Kindle. I don't think this could ever be a song. It's too long and involved. I just consider it a poem. Along with the six poems that make up the Strange Cargo tale, I think it's the best writing I'll ever do. And maybe Pyramid Scheme. Two of the Strange Cargo poem/lyrics were turned into The Underground Railroad medley with the wonderful aid of Ricki and Mike. You can read the whole Strange Cargo saga in my book of poems/lyrics and short story called Americana on Kindle for 2.99. It's also free somewhere on JPF and Taxi.
Last edited by couchgrouch; 12/05/18 02:32 PM.
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It's getting to be Halloween...
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Joined: Sep 2019
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Wow! Didn’t ever think I would find a end. Great writing. Hell I don’t think I have that many words in my vocabulary let alone have to make them work together. Thanks for sharing. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
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"If one man can do it, any man can do it. It is true. But the real question is, if one man did it, are you willing to do what it takes to do it as well?" –Brian Austin Whitney
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