Author: little eddie

original version of this song

I may like this better than the final version

If ya wants to stay strong
And swing from the gantry
Eat your oatmeal, laddy
Right there in the pantry

Now, I’ll allow there’s some
What skips their oatmeal fast
Their time is short
Sailing before the mast

So eat up me lads
You one and all
Before its rapiers and swords
And cannon balls

Oatmeal and raisins
With a swallow of grog
Now up to the crow’s nest
And get us out of this fog

Chorus
Oatmeal and raisins
The pirate’s delight
Stay out of the locker
And avoid the black spot

Great expectations, graduations, and traveling by train
Realizations, accusations, they all cost the same
Armani and Zegna, a dad from Kenya
Yes, you pay all the same

Letting go of times long ago
Memphis and Eustis
What Graceville meant to us

Daydreaming’s free

John Eagle and I were on the phone today talking about what’s going on in the quarantine world – he near New Orleans and I here in the Midwest. John has a friend who collects scrap metal and resells it. He had some short metal pipes and asked John what he thought. John told him, “Those are pipe bombs, dude.” The pipes had wires connected to the caps. His neighbor, Martine, speaks mostly Spanish, so John called Martine’s wife, who called the police.

Eventually the conversation turned to what we are learning during the lockdown, which here is not really a lockdown, but it’s certainly easier to type lockdown instead of describing that we’re mostly able to do anything but eat in restaurants and go to bars. John has taken to making short 30 second videos. I am learning to play the violin. A friend of mine who lives overseas and plays jazz is going to start teaching me his approach. He gave me a practice tip over email today that was magic. Once he downloads Zoom, we’ll get started.

Anyway, I told John that I always used to think if you could talk like Bullwinkle, your career would soar. The concept applies to anything one might do in life. Talking like Bullwinkle surely would add magic to any presentation, or party, any activity. John had earlier told me he thought he had perfect pitch because he could imitate birds and farm animals. I suppose there is a connection. More importantly, I pointed out to him that mimicry of a talking moose should fit into his wheelhouse.

Anyone else out there that can talk like Bullwinkle, send me a video. I bet most people can’t.

A few weeks’ ago, my developmentally disabled nephew went to the emergency room with a high temperature (about 103). They gave him a COVID 19 test while he was there and when his temperature subsided, they sent him home. A week later, he was back at the hospital with a temperature of 104. We all were very worried.

When he got out of intensive care, no COVID 19, I called him. He was very moved his uncle called. I decided to give him my phone number when he got back to his group home. When he recovered from some mysterious infection, I did call him at home. The first thing he asked for was my phone number. Now, he is an adult, but not quite so adult as some. He calls his mom about eight times a day. I can’t claim ignorance about what I might be getting into.

Well, after week one of this experiment, things are going well. I get a wake-up call every morning and then a call around 5 o’clock in the evening to schedule the next day’s wake-up call. He also offers advice on what I should eat for dinner.

It’s good to be an uncle.

John and I were talking on the phone and spoke about settling. My initial thought was about where folks tend to live. John has lived in New Orleans a long time, in good and tough times for the city, and I returned to near the little town I more or less grew up in after living in other parts of the country for over a decade. There’s not a perfect place, job, or mate, yet we eventually settle making some compromise in exchange for a perceived benefit.

That said, John sent me some lyrics soon afterwards that went something like this:

I’ve been a wandering man
Who carves his days
From the fabric of the land
A place for the stoic trees
And the land, the land
She rolls like the seas

Where I saw trees was a forest
And the sky, the sky
A cotton candy swirl
That’s what she is
A cotton candy girl
A child of the world

Chorus
She’s good enough
Oh, she’s good enough
I finally see
What she means to me
So, she’s good enough
Good enough for me

How long was she there?
With flowing honey hair
The sun glinting so starry
Or was i just blind
And out of my mind
Burdened with more than i could carry

It all seems so moot
As i gather the truth
About where shimmering moonlight
Meets the union of the night
And the girl of the dream
Proves more than she seems

Chorus

Well, I have been working on learning some Tin Pan Alley songs on mandolin, finding that they share some similar chords. I started playing with this idea:

Initial chord idea on iPhone

That was recorded on my iPhone sitting on the couch by my newly replaced Vermont Castings stove. I then wrote a simple drum beat on my computer to keep me in time (later added a bodhran drum on top of that), recorded the mando backing with the new beat, and added an initial guide vocal (later replaced with what you hear here).

Early Tracks on Computer DAW

You can hear the completed song here:

I made a decision to take the summer off and recover from the trauma of teaching way too much the past few years. I decided to learn to play the violin, or progress from sounding like killing a cat when playing, then also up my mandolin game. About half way into the summer, I decided to take my first music lessons in decades. I hooked up with the wonderful Dave Edmundson, who has spent much of his life playing traditional string music.Dave is a fine man, excellent teacher and musician. He has been most gracious and patient in guiding me along this stage of musical growth.

Then a friend called and said he had a gig working as a trainer and support person at a large college-level school on the local military base. So far this has had the potential of being worthy employment with fair wages and benefits, albeit not great. I am learning lessons based upon that decision, too.

https://soundcloud.com/edro-1/lorange-lyrics-john-eaglehttps://soundcloud.com/edro-1/lorange-lyrics-john-eagle

“I just stuffed an orange up a chicken’s derriere.” So starts John’s tale of budget cooking. Here I thought after talking a bit about this next song, it was going to be about Kerrygold Irish butter. For my part, I have decided to learn to play the fiddle (violin for those in the Northeast) and working on the mandolin chops this summer. Nothing much on the mando here, though I do manage to slide a minor 6th chord and a cycle of fifths progression into the subtle octave mandolin rhythm part. That’s John in the pic proudly wearing his Fathers’ Day gift from his son Will.

John: lyrics
edro: octave mandolins, percussion, fiddle, vocals

I just stuffed an orange
Up a chicken’s derriere
I know it sounds absurd
Some call it Poulet l’Orange
But i knew all along
It was orange yard bird

I got the chicken on sale
Been in my freezer for a while
The orange was soft
Like it needed a shot of Stoli
So i sliced it in two
And jammed it up its holy moly

Chorus
I’m hungry
You can bet on that
When you start seeing chickens
And oranges intimate together
Your belly’s banging your buckle
And playing Stormy Weather

While i wait at the door
Looking for the mail
Its roasting in the oven
Defiled and covered in pepper
I got some taters on the side
Their skin as thick as leather

The yard bird is roasting
Centered on the rack
The hungry man is waiting
Waiting on a check
Looking in a freezer
That resembles a train wreck

Chorus

Two local greats that I grew up listening to in bars were Ron Thompson of the Dry Branch Fire Squad, and David Harvey, now the head luthier of mandolins at Gibson.