My Chateau Lady I met her one bright September morn when I went to taste some wine. There was something in the way she looked that told me you’ll be mine. She offered me a modest glass, described its history; of the wars that were fought to control the land in southern Burgundy. I placed the cup against my lips and took a sip or two. An angel seemed to lift me up as the wine went coursing through. She smiled and asked me what I thought. My words I could not say. I was prisoner of her witching look on that blue and gentle day. From Macon up to Lugny and from Aze cross to Cluny I searched in every vineyard for my chateau girl. She vanished with the sunset and it’s still a mystery how I lost my chateau lady in southern Burgundy. I did not know that I’d be hers but she would never be mine. But I did not care I quaffed that glass. She poured another stoop of wine. I felt the reins of ownership tighten round my head and I would go to anywhere and do whatever she said. I whispered let’s meet later on. She smiled like saying yes. She pointed to a distant field where the vines seemed at their best. I searched for her among the grapes and patrolled the avenues but all my questing was in vain. I was left lost and confused.. From Macon up to Lugny and from Aze cross to Cluny, I searched in every vineyard for my chateau girl. But she vanished with the sunset and in the morning mist, I could not quite remember the moment that we kissed. She vanished with the sunset and it’s still a mystery how I lost my chateau lady in southern Burgundy. (c)2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

Michael Furey In the Snow A light white snow is falling down on Michael Furey's grave and Gretta lies with a curl of a tear in an eye that's creased with age Gabriel is lying there with the quilt up to his chin The snow taps at the window but he won't let it in and the long dead souls of Ireland smile in the winter wind Gretta loved a boy so fair a long long time ago but he died in a barren Galway house aged seventeen or so he pulled himself from his dying bed to bid his last farewell could have been that that killed him I don’t know who can tell But the image sears across the jealous mind of Gabriel Gabriel still loves his wife with a sad intensity But his feelings cannot touch her as she goes back down the years Michael holding Gretta's hand would turn to her and sing She's crying for her own lost youth She was the lass of Aughrim And memory forgets what is and thinks of what could have been. ©2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

Ed's Song Ed's been playing his old tunes upstairs. I'm down below in the yard. He's not sung those songs in a long, long time, times have been so hard. He used to play them every Friday night when he got home and smoke and sip a glass of southern wine and write a poem. like the sailor who somehow never came home from the sea and his wife kept looking at the waves and going down to the quay and the salesman who never sealed a deal and never shook a hand and he stopped singing his love song about me and the one about the preacher and the one about the whore and the protest song that never stopped a war and the mining song that left ten good men dead He put down his guitar and he stowed away the box stopped humming all the tunes inside his head at the equinox Summer waxed and autumn waned and the year turned like a lathe but Ed was tooling no more songs. He just lost his faith. I guess with all the reject slips he couldn't take the knocks though his ideas never stopped. To me it's a paradox how can a man lock himself away, stop singing and playing guitar but I never stopped believing he's a star. Some far away stars you can hardly see the light and Ed was going through his darkest night still he held on till the morning came around. Just last week we got some news from a record company. They want to use some of Ed's songs for a programme on TV We sure need the money now there's a smile upon his face he's got a fresh shirt on, clean pants and shoes and he's even tied his lace And he's dusting down his old songs like trophies on a mantelpiece He's even writing new ones wonders will never cease I just heard him sing my name through the window open wide he's playing his love song about me and the one about the preacher and the one about the whore and the protest song that never stopped war and a new one, how love can set you free. (c) 2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

The Ballad of Tod Carter D Tod Carter was clear by the end of the year G A D he’d be home with his family and friends. His sisters did write in the dead of the night A ‘Lord knows this war never ends’. G D Now Captain Tod Carter, who’d fought through all Georgia, Bm G marched home to his own Tennessee. D G But poor Captain Tod had a meeting with God. A D And Franklin he’d never see. D The war was near lost and high was the cost. G A D In 5 hours 10,000 were slain. But Carter most eager though his forces beleaguered A Said, “Follow me boys I’m almost home”. G D He was shot in the street where his sisters did sleep, Bm G a few steps from his welcome front gate. D G Yes the fates had designed a story unkind. A D For his homecoming he would be late. G D A D So play the pipes lowly and bang the drum slowly G A D for the dead who died for so what. G D A D You can argue against war; ask what is it for. G A D why Tod fought to keep what he had got. D As the smoke blew away at the dawn of that day G A D Tod’s sisters stepped into the street like a party of nuns, and daring the guns A walked out with hesitant feet. G D Their brother was lying beneath a tree dying Bm G twisted and broken and grey, D G and with tears on his cheek looking boyish and meek. A D They knelt down as if to pray. D But they lifted him up like a broken prized cup G A D and carried him home to his rest. And his blood flowed on down staining their gowns. A But they never flinched at the test. G D With the strength of their ardour he was laid in the parlour. Bm G His life flashed on by to the past, D G and he struggled to breathe not wanting to leave A D whispering “sisters I’m home at last”. G D A D So play the fife lowly and bang the drum slowly G A D for the dead who died for so what G D A D You can argue against war ask what is it for G A D why Tod fought to keep what he had got. (c) Copyright Paul Dalton, London, England 2011.

Say What You Feel Early morning mist on the meadow hearing you whistle and calling my name it was all so long ago like it happened to a different soul but it still feels like yesterday We would walk through the fields together didn’t matter what kind of weather way on up that mountain track till it felt like we were never coming back but we never said what we had to say Don’t stop say what you feel you never know when the chance might come again don’t stop though its courage you lack you can only go forward you can never go back I didn't see through all the years but I heard your name everywhere I went over that mountain track you went to the city on the black tarmac but it still feel like yesterday And I think about you every now and then wondering if I'll ever see you again it doesn't seem so important now the feelings gone anyhow it's funny how love flies as time slips away and it funny how we don’t say what we mean to say Don’t stop say what you feel you never know when the chance might come again don’t stop though its courage you lack you can only go forward you can never go back © 2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

Roads Of Portugal V1 I roamed the roads of Portugal I went from north to south looking for a welcome face, a friendly smiling mouth I trawelled my way across the bays. I toiled up in the hills. I worked for others night and day until their barns were filled V2 I tramped the streets of Portugal. I went from west to east looking for a festival to join in with the feast; carried with me my guitar. I'd play a soleful tune. I left them all wanting more and singing at the moon. Ch I left home when I was young, sick of shoveling muck and dung and eager for another way of life. I hit the roads without a care, did not heed my folks despair and the tears of a sweet young girl, who said she'd be my wife. V3 I roved the lanes of Portugal through sun and snow and rain as free as any herring gull, ignored the cold disdain I saw in other faces for my torn and patched attire. I would not kneel or kiss a hand or call another sire V4 I hiked the tracks of Portugal and spied a sweet young girl, who told me that she knew me well. 'Twas in another world. She kissed me on my dusty lips. She saw through my disguise. I turned into a younger man right before her eyes. Ch I left home when I was young, sick of shoveling muck and dung and eager for another way of life. I hit the road without a care, did not heed my folks despair and the tears of a sweet young girl, who said she'd be my wife. V5 I no longer walk those winding roads. I've left that life behind. I've learned to love my one true love. She taught me to be kind. But I still dream of hills and shores and wonder if I shall get up one day and roam again the roads of Portugal.

THE CAPTAIN'S STORY copyright(c) 2019 Paul Gerard Dalton When I became a strong young man I loaded up an old canoe and set off from the island where I was born and spent my youth. Childhood friends gathered on the shore to say goodbye and wave, my craft weighed down with the things I bought or found or someone gave. My intention was to make my way with the rising sun across the lake, find some folk and stop and trade, make some friends and make some money, come back home with my story. I never made my way back home. I just kept going on and on and sold the things that weighed me down. Sometimes I lost, sometimes I won. I bought and sold and learned to price the smiles I saw in peoples' eyes and met a girl who held me tight. But even then I said goodbye. The lake became too small for me. I made my way down to see the sea, where tall ships jostle in the docks and time is measured on the clocks and many men have many stories. I stood and watched the tide come in, the boats go out, the noise and din. And some strange feeling in my heart made me stop and made me start. I met a skipper in a harbour bar and signed to go to Africa. Year on year I sailed around this little world on which we're found. I made my money spent my pay, saved none in heed less way. With my wallet shrinking on my hip I knew there'd be another ship. And late at night I'd stand on watch, my hand held out to try and catch the falling stars shooting at the sea. but they never came so close to me to tell their story. So I learned to circumnavigate, got a job as a second mate, took my masters was in demand and got myself my first command. I bought a house and found a wife, continued the seafaring life. Children came into the place. With their noise and toys they filled the space. I'd look at them in their beds at night away in dreams of dark and light whimper at some memory. But they were far too far from me to tell their story. I stood and watched the tide come in, the boats go out, the noise and din. And some strange feeling in my heart made me stop and made me start. The children grew and made their way. All of them found different trades. My wife died on a winter's day when I was docking in Malay. I read her headstone in the turf and looked for meaning in the words. But like the sea meets with the sky, it's just a line on the horizon. I ask myself what I believe, what I've lost, what I've achieved. My attempted inventory leaves me puzzled all at sea to tell my story. I'm retired now and fading fast. The clocks tick out the hours at last. My eyes are watery and dim. But my mind is sharp, my memory slim. I think back to that island lake I found so easy to forsake. was it something that I lack that nothing could have drawn me back. If only I could travel on past distant planets, past the sun. Find at last some place to rest where I could feel I'm at my best. And tell my story. I stand and watch the tides come in, the boats go out, the noise and din. And some strange feeling in my heart makes me stop and made me start. Yes some strange feeling in my heart makes me stop and makes me start.

I Dreamed I Met Bob Dylan 1 I dreamed I met Bob Dylan on the local train through Kew I was relaxed and homeward bound, out of Waterloo going up to Isleworth, looking at the view seeing what was different, watching what was new 2 The guard was checking tickets, he asked me for mine I handed him a library card, he said now that’s just fine but you should know the rules, and have you read the sign library cards not valid, as payment on this line 3 It reminded me I had some books I needed to take back before the library fined me as the money I did lack They were travels on the road, by young Jack Kerouac and Le Pere Goriot, by Honore de Balzac 4 We passed some playing fields, where schoolboys practised cricket the guard kept on insisting, I pay for my ticket he said he'd throw me off the train into a brambly thicket I flipped my finger at him and told him where to stick it 5 Things were getting difficult and I didn’t know what to do when a man called out Dylan’s on the train and he wants to talk to you He said keep it short Steve, it’s not an interview I ran between the carriages, thinking there's a queue 6 But when I got there I could see that Bob was on his own His hair windswept and curly, I offered him a comb he took out his harmonica and started up a blowin and we played guitar and sang some songs from Bringing It All Back Home 7 When he flashed a smile his eyes were wise, the colour crinkly green like lights to go and never stop, he just surveyed the scene He looked at me said pray tell me, the places you have been I couldn’t say just to Oxford Street, to buy a pair of jeans 8 So I told him that I loved him, and his music it is rare How brave and true his lyrics are, there’s nothing he won’t dare How he questions all authority, spurns those who say beware And with all that loving flattery Bob gave me the railway fare. 9 Then Bob asked me would I start the show when he next went out on tour. He was going off to Germany, down the Rhine and to the Ruhr But before I signed the contract, the guard he made damned sure to kick me off the train at Barnes and I landed in a sewer. 10 I sat beside that rail track wondering what was doin the cattle in a nearby field started up a mooin' If ever I saw that guard again I swore that I would sue him for the pain he caused and the damage done, my new blue jeans were ruined. 11 I watched that train disappear into the bright sunset music floating back to me I felt a deep regret and loneliness beset me for the man I had just met and all the things he said to me I never would forget. 12 I woke up in a drenching sweat and a pounding in my brain And the echoes of a thousand songs trying to ease my pain Each one a Dylan classic, and as I hummed each blest refrain I wondered would I get the chance to ride that train again. (c)2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

Bluebells The sound of shouts in the forest the smell of wood smoke curling the sight of bluebells spreading in among the trees There's an urgent bugle calling from the far side of the stream A flash of red through hedges the sound of horses cantering the smell of horse dung spreading in among the trees Still an urgent bugle calling from this side of the stream Here come the fox yes here comes the fox eyes wide staring red tongue hanging white tipped tail behind So clap your hands and throw some rocks confuse the bleeder make him run back down to the dogs The noise of barking's closer a deep and melancholy sound the fox is in among the bluebells underneath the trees she spots a gap in the hedge shoots straight out cross a field The dogs are tearing up the bluebells looking for a place to squeeze the fox is smaller in the distance and the gap wont yield dogs and horses mingle in confusion underneath the trees There goes the fox yes there goes the fox the bugle calls the hunt is off so throw away those rocks But look at the flowers trampled in the loam Just look at those pretty bluebells lying in a row. © 2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

The Day We Went To Pisa With the tower on my shoulder I'm sorry that I scolded you the day we went to Pisa Folly on the piazza per favore non grazia though I did what I could to please ya. Hard to say if you were a boy or a girl Your hair was curly but your face was closed your fist held open asking me for money you moved around me like a ghost I handed you some Euros I was thinking about murals as you looked up into my eyes You gave me a glance of scorn your palm was like a platform holding up what you despised I could not get round you I could not leave You said signor in a whisper I said no more as you were tugging at my sleeve Then up came your mother and your sister Your mother she was ugly she looked like she would mug me But your sister was lying in her arms She said give me some money and your sisters nose was runny I thought for God's sake spare me all your charms I looked around me up to the square There was no one to be seen I started shouting but you didn’t seem to care It was me that was making all the scene Looking back it's such a pity all I saw was a beggar kid I lost my cool you kept your dignity You were only doing what you always did Tourists with their cameras in the square holding up the tower taking the weight But you needed more than a helping hand to keep your family straight ©2019 Paul Gerard Dalton

Careless Love Standing alone at the top of the stair listening for your footsteps coming back from the fair watching the window for a sight of your hair fretting and wondering if you still care Cos darling I need you but you're fading away ever since I told you on that fateful day that I loved another and I would not stay But she was untrue. For my falseness I pay Your smile was as wide as a swan on the wing your lips were as full as the moon in the spring But you smile it has gone like the day at the dusk and your lips are what's let when the seed leaves the husk Cos darling I need you but you're fading away ever since I told you on that fateful day that I loved another and I would not stay But she was untrue. For my falseness I pay I said I was sorry I tried to be kind tried to make up for my careless mind brought home to you all the gifts I could find but when the fruit has all gone all that’s left is the rind Cos darling I need you but you're fading away ever since I told you on that fateful day that I loved another and I would not stay But she was untrue. For my falseness I pay So now you go out and around on your own come back again to the house not a home stranger that's close with your brush an your comb and your hair is as long as the distance we've grown. Cos darling I need you but you're fading away ever since I told you on that fateful day that I loved another and I would not stay But she was untrue. For my falseness I pay. ©2019 Paul Gerard Dalton