nealonsongs

Hmm. I'm not sure where this came from. I just started singing it one day.

Find Your Way
Copyright Dave Nealon June 15, 2006

Find your way back home, love
Find your way back in
Find your way back home, love
I don't care where you been
I don't care where you been

Jump the jagged mountains
Swim the swirling seas
Trudge the trackless deserts
Just come home to me
Just come home to me

Sometimes time can feel alright
On a Friday night in the sweet moonlight
It's a precious sight as your dreams take flight
Better hold on tight

Heaven hurls its hungry hounds
To track you down and you hear the sound
As it shakes the ground till you come around
To the outskirts of town

Speaks for itself.

I’m Leaving Me
Dave Nealon
July 25, 2003
Topsail Beach, NC

I’m in my midlife crisis scratching a seven-year itch
Got my butt stuck in a rut but I’m crawling out of the ditch
I can’t stay on hold till I’m too old to finally see the light
It’s been all wrong; I’ve stayed too long
This is our last night

I’m leaving me; I let me down
I cheated me; I fooled around
I can’t stay in this relationship; I’m setting myself free
First thing tomorrow morning I’m leaving me

I’m holding me back; I’m keeping me down
I talked behind my back and now it’s all over town
I hurt me so that I gotta go and leave it all behind
Leave the face in the mirror of the bathroom here that stares back at mine

Don’t take it so hard! I saw it coming too.
I’ve grown apart. There’s nothing left to do.
Conversation’s strained trying halfway to care
When I talk to myself it’s like nobody’s there
So little in common and nothing to say
I’m heading my separate ways

As you cut across Fancy Gap from Virginia to North Carolina, the close, steep mountains give way to the wide piedmont. But there ahead, rising all alone is Pilot Mountain. It's topped by a bare-rock dome--hardened quartzite that resists erosion.

I made up the chorus as I came down the slope one morning heading to Mark's house. I hummed it for a year or so until another visit to Mark's. Then I wrote it down.

The second verse refers to the Hillsville Shootout in 1912. Last time I checked, there were still bullet holes in the courthouse steps.

Pilot Mountain

Mamaw was just a girl when her family started out from Pennsylvania down the old Wagon Road
Crossed at Harper’s Ferry along the Shenandoah shore and up the Valley they pulled a heavy load
Southeast to cross the Blue Ridge in rugged Fancy Gap
They wondered if they'd ever find their way
Like a signal to the schooners sailing on Atlantic waves
A tower for the tired travelers coming home to stay
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home

In nineteen hundred twelve I climbed back up into Virginia to labor on the old Sidna Allen’s farm
I minded my own business working hard out in the fields and kept my body out of sight and out of harm
But that fateful day in Hillsville with the shootout at the courthouse I found myself involved in my worst fear
I escaped into the mountains where I wandered lost and lone
Till a vision of a fortress stood before me high and clear
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home

Pilot Mountain, guide me home
To the foothills down below your quartzite dome
Standing tall a quarter mile above the floor
There to greet me and lead me to my door

Bodie Island lighthouse dates to 1872 and Currituck 1875
Ocracoke in was built way back in 1823; Hatteras in 1869
Old Baldy is the oldest light – 1817
But the Knob was standing long, long before
Those ancient coastline beacons had ever even shone
And it might still be shining long after they're gone
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home
Pilot Mountain, guide me on to my Carolina home

Don't worry. This is about me, not you. Wrote it in 2005. Played it the other night in a restaurant, and friend Steve asked me to record it. So here it is.

How Am I Supposed to Know?

You tell me that you love me but how am I supposed to know?
You spend every waking hour anywhere you want to go
You listen so politely and you talk so kind
And it looks to me like you might change your mind
And I’m not gonna tell you
One more time

You don’t finish what you started so you’re never satisfied
Hang down your head and tremble cuz poor boy you’re bound to die
Come join the revolution that explodes inside your chest
Then work until the day I give you rest
Work beside us till the day
Day of rest

Chorus
Now you listen here. It’s much worse than it appears
But it’s better than it seems
They say a true friend is faithful to the bitter end
Now we’ll find out what that means

Your lazy lack of action thunders louder than your words
If you’d just take a risk with a tenth of what you heard
You’d accomplish more in one week than you have in seven years
As the day draws near
Let the one who has ears—let him hear

Bridge
There’s no place for either hope or fear
On the battlefield of war
Just keep riding out in loyalty
To the sacred oath you swore

You don’t deliver on your promises so what do you expect?
Don’t waste your time enthralled by what the mirror’s face reflects
You know what’s required. Why should I have to poke and prod?
Do justice, love mercy, walk with God
Do justice, love mercy
Walk with God

Your life's story in three short verses.

I was thinking about my teenage daughter. I wanted to write a song that would explain life to her and soothe her in her teen angst, but she grew up before I could finish it. Oh well, maybe she can soothe me in my old-timer angst.

Early
Dave Nealon
5/28/05
Lacey Spring, VA

Early one morning you wake up to find
A restless wind blowing the light through the blinds
Is calling from the edge of the dawn
As the morning moves on you know you got to obey
The nervous excitement will drag you away
It’s drawing; drawing you on

Didn’t you know; hadn’t you heard or felt that pinch on your heart?
Ages ago—remember my word—I told you right from the start

Sun overhead in the heat of the day
The sky turns hazy; the wind dies away
You wonder how you were so sure
Temptation’s your teacher and failure’s your friend
If there’s anything left of you in the end
It’s a wonder, a miracle cure

If you care, then you’ll share sorrow following in your wake
It’s out there; it’s somewhere, something you just gotta shake

Along about evening the stir of the wind
Tousles your hair and gets you moving again
You’re racing the light to the west
There’s an urgency now in the reddening sun
You might not have long to get something done
Before you finally rest

In Dickens' Great Expectations, narrator Pip has that moment we all have--when we realize how haughty we've been toward the very people who deserve our gratitude.

Cry

Copyright November 8, 2004 Dave Nealon

As I walked out a restless feeling seemed to follow
I should be proud, but my chest is somehow hollow
And all the words I wish I’d never said
Echo down the canyons in my head

But they jumped out before I had a chance to stop them
I just had to have my say once too often
And now that I am off and on my own
The memories magnify how I’m alone

So I
Cry. Heave a sad sigh. (or rinse out your mind)
Don’t even try to dry your eyes.
Like a dam break, like a hurricane, like a tidal wave, like monsoon rain
Cry.

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed
Of our tears for they’re like desperate needed rain
That falls upon the blinding dust of earth
That lies upon the crust of our hard hearts

(The final stanza is a near-verbatim quotation from Charles Dickens' Great Expectations.)

Heard the Rolling Stones on TV. Thought, "Yeah, stick it to the man!" But it was a credit card commercial. Then heard "The Times They Are A-Changing.' Right on! But it was an insurance commerical. Then I saw Dylan in the lingerie commerical. That did it.

The Revolution’s Over Copyright March 8, 2007 Dave Nealon Lacey Spring, VA

The revolution’s over now; Lay down my old guitar
The Rolling Stones couldn’t get no satisfaction
So now they’re hawking credit cards, cards They’re hawking credit cards

The revolution’s over now but we’re still 8 miles high
Imagine more possessions now
It’s easy if you buy, buy, It’s easy if you buy

Oh deep in my heart I do believe
Down by the riverside
You say you want a revolution In your heart this time, time In your heart this time

The revolution's over now, no more hawks and doves.
And nothing to get hung about
Because all you need is Luvs, Luvs, all you need is Luvs.

The revolution’s over now; can’t you read the signs?
The generation lost in space
Kinda wasted my precious time, time Kinda wasted my precious time

The revolution’s over now; almost cut my hair
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
But Dylan’s selling underwear, wear Dylan’s selling underwear.

Written on a hot, still afternoon on Topsail Island, North Carolina.

Be Careful What You Wish For

It’s a humid heat that gathers in the middle of the day
And the breeze dies down to nothing, hear the rumble far away
Clouds build up higher; maybe a storm will clear things out
Be careful what you wish for; it just might come about

Be careful what you wish for; be careful what you say
For if it really happens, you might regret someday
Some things are best in dreamland; out here they’d just wear out
Be careful what you wish for; it just might come about

I went sailing as a youngster all the summer everyday
The action at the waterline pushing up the spray
And the clanging of my halyard; wish I could still hear those sounds
Be careful what you wish for; it just might come about

Shorebirds and the terns fly, pelicans and gulls
I wish that I could follow them as the sunset fades to dull
To the south end of the island to wait the long night out
Be careful what you wish for; it just might come about

I saw a banner in a school auditorium. It said, "I have loved you with an everlasting love." Sounded encouraging. I looked it up.

A nation conquered and carried off into slavery. But their prophets say, "Don't worry. God will save us from this. He won't let this disaster befall us."

But Jeremiah says, "Actually, you might as well get used to it. We're in for the long haul. But after things get to their worst--much worse than you yet imagine--then you'll understand God's love. You'll see his love as everlasting--amid the catastrophes.

Good Time (from Jeremiah 29 and 31)
Dave Nealon
8/16/04

It might be a long time
Go ahead and settle in
Do what you need to do
Don’t look back where you been
Build your house, plant your garden
Eat what you grow
Then when the time comes
I’ll let you know

I
Have loved you
With an everlasting
Love


They burned our fields
Captured our sons
Laid waste our children
Stole everything we ever owned
They dragged us off in chains
They gave us foreign names
We’ll never see our homes again
Never again

You’re in the middle of disaster
And it might get worse yet
Your only hope is to outlast it
But don’t give up just yet
I know the plans I have for you
I’ve got your future in my mind
Then when you look, you’ll finally find me
All in good time

My great-great uncle Frank DeVaney was a peg-legged Irish Klondiker violin maker who put together his first fiddle as a child. He made lots of instruments--including the one I play on this tune (in 1895). He only had to change one letter in his name to give the impression that he was a respectable Italian maker. I made up Frank DeVoney's waltz while scratching on his fiddle in the back yard as the sun set on the mountain.

Instrumental

This is inspired by Beth. She showed me wintergreen and red efts, and sassafras. She played hammered dulcimer and had such a natural aspect in her flatfooting. It was in hiking trails and paddling rivers that we reckoned we'd like to climb life's mountain together.

Woodswoman
Dave Nealon
5/14/00
Lacey Spring, Virginia

It was her grace that charmed me
She walks with the rhythm of the southern storm
Like she belongs in the woods, knows every thorn
Touch me not for nettle sting
Buck and wing dances, hammers on strings
Kick in the creek and drink from the fountain
Singing her songs like High on the Mountain

She woke up this morning with that same long yearning
How do I get there from here?
Realization comes like the sun’s slow dawning
This is it; this is my life
Say it easy; say it nice
Like the river down the center and the bank on each side
It’s not the destination; it’s enjoying the ride

Ref:
Do the kids know what she’s like inside?
Can they hear the music in her mind?
Do they feel her delight in the evening sky?
Do they realize the patience behind her sigh?

Middle:
She’s added a layer or two
Character forms like dribbling sand
Drop to the bottom
Season on season
Trickle by little
Sedimentary rock
We don’t set our foundation till the end of our span

And there are years to come yet, waters still upstream
What kind of trouble will they wash down to flood our dreams?
I’ll shoot the rapids with you, friend
Paddle through the funnel, take it where we can
This kayak carries us and if we spill
We’ll thrill to the chill of the river still

I heard Charlottesville fiddler Dick Harrington play this about 25 years ago. I wonder if I remember it right.