Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics

Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics

HYMN TO PAN, DIONYSUS

O LET SILENCE COMPEL US TO SEE MYSTERY

O LET SILENCE COMPEL US TO SEE MYSTERY WE ARE HERE NOW BOTH YOU AND ME, DO YOU NOT THINK "WHAT IS THIS GOING? Where's this wind blowing To a heartland of bliss?" Beginning and ending Who makes the rules? Without some real insight We are the fools! From wonder to wonder Each tender kiss O teach us to see straight It's too good to miss! You who now doubt The very rock where you step You were born here, Agnostic, Tell me, What's this? (C)2019 by W.G. Milne

MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN

MOONSHINE SKETCHES OF A PICKLED TOWN I don't know whether you know WAIT-A-BIT!, if not it is of no consequence. For if you know the North of Canada at all, you probably know a dozen towns just like it. There it lies in the Moonlight, sloping up from the Big River, the Mackenzie River sweeping along its range of mountains rolling down along its miles of woodlands, the wide river runs rolling on towards the sea. And silence, the wide wild silence of the Arctic, tempered by the caw of ravens, sweetened with the howl of wolves, and seasoned through all seasons, by endless light and interminable darkness. There it lies in the Moonlight, sloping up from the wild river at the foot of the hillside on which the town is built. There is a wharf beside the river, and a moveable section of floating wharf which forms a “T” into the river. There are three boats upturned beside the wharf. The boats go nowhere. Men used to go fishing in them, but the freshwater sharks that come down from the ocean inhibit the fish from coming to this corner of the river. The bears still catch fish north of here, ion the shallows where the river runs very wide. And indeed the 100 pound weasels, known as wolverines; they have been seen eating the occasional carcass of a shark. There's a pair of binoculars at Artie's Bar... And we watch the weasels cavort over the shark carcass down the hill on the mudflats by the river. The boats go nowhere. The distances are too great, the immensity is so vast... So the remaining inhabitants of Wait-A-Bit!, the ones who have survived ( and I am lucky to say that I am one) we sit here, sons and daughters of Intemperance, and we observe the immensity... The inhalation of solvents is discouraged, but the use of alcohol has been approved of once again, as being indeed necessary to contemplate the Eye of the Universe which is looking back at us. (c) 2013 by William G. Milne All rights reserved. Posted 7th December 2013 by WILLIAM MILNE