"UP UP UP" - JOHNNY ROCK AND THE MAINSTREET BAND

A song I wrote for my mother (God Bless her) many seasons ago.

PHRASES FROM CALYPSO, STORIES WHERE I GREW UP

My father had about 57 sawmills. Then he went to a famous clinic (Mayo + Layhe)... WAS TOLD HE'D BE DEAD IN A YEAR. (Maybe a warm climate would help... and no more 16 hours a day working --- with a nerve disease.) So he knew some people, including the Atorney General of Jamaica. So that's where he went to purchase land and buy a house - some place with sun, where they had all sorts of fruit, and the best excellent rum... He flew to Jamaica Met a mad landowner They got along fine When the shotguns were put down They said, "Hello." I want some land here don't cha know You wanta build a subdivision I'll get you a new vision When the houuse was built He invited people down from the north He took them to floorshows... And at six I had to go I really didn't mind At six - what a great great time With sexual innuendo On stage, together with Calypso I learned a lot more than that... The stories that the singers told; and the rhythms in the hips of the backup singer-dancers ... taught me how to roll. much more to come (C)2021 by wILLIAM MILNE.

STANDING UP

house in the middle of a 33 acre field... long dirt driveway, etc. etc. I was working in Bill Davis's law firm in Brampton... Tho once he was Premier he had to disassociate himself from the firm... Did a lot of real estate in those days, but I digress. I spent many long hours by myself in this amazing place with a 2 story stone wall, huge hearth.... Hell, if you swallowed some hallucinogen and started reading Shakespeare in the place beside this tall stone structure --- you thought you were THERE in the play... and you got to know the characters (people) who were like neighbours... ...But I digress. I wrote some of my best songs there in that atmosphere of drama, solitude, and loneliness. I'd go and sit on a stump in the middle of the field and start to write. I wrote COLD, COLD, COLD there, and also: "HYMN TO PAN DIONYSUS" I also wrote, "NO REST FOR THE INNOCENT", a song I'm still trying to find. None of these songs are short songs. But I make no apologies for this. They are all exceptional songs. I say this in all modesty...Ha! Ha! At any rate, here's one version of COLD, COLD, COLD, which I like, especially with Peter Rowland's guitar solo... tho I think the song otta really be produced in 2/4. More on this later. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved. This song is not just me dicking around with my own songs --- this song is about the North and about the nature of Canada. It's easy to see why I say this... when you see the landscape, visit the small towns, and hear the words. The song is bigger than I am, and was always meant to be. (C) 1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock corporation. All rights reserved.Band got... to recording an pop record. These guys were jazz players, so they had no problems with the complex rhythms. With my hard-edged cracking rhythm guitar set on treble, the pop song idea went out the window. Especially with that taste of Jamaica in the rhythms. Anyway, I like the song... unpretentious. The song says what it means and means what it says. At any rate, it's not so serious! (C) 2017 by W.G. Milne All rights reserved. Hope you like it. P. Rowland lead Guitar. KLGE cover art. W.G.Milne singerhouse in the middle of a 33 acre field... long dirt driveway, etc. etc. I was working in Bill Davis's law firm in Brampton... Tho once he was Premier he had to disassociate himself from the firm... Did a lot of real estate in those days, but I digress. I spent many long hours by myself in this amazing place with a 2 story stone wall, huge hearth.... Hell, if you swallowed some hallucinogen and started reading Shakespeare in the place beside this tall stone structure --- you thought you were THERE in the play... and you got to know the characters (people) who were like neighbours... ...But I digress. I wrote some of my best songs there in that atmosphere of drama, solitude, and loneliness. I'd go and sit on a stump in the middle of the field and start to write. I wrote COLD, COLD, COLD there, and also: "HYMN TO PAN DIONYSUS" I also wrote, "NO REST FOR THE INNOCENT", a song I'm still trying to find. None of these songs are short songs. But I make no apologies for this. They are all exceptional songs. I say this in all modesty...Ha! Ha! At any rate, here's one version of COLD, COLD, COLD, which I like, especially with Peter Rowland's guitar solo... tho I think the song otta really be produced in 2/4. More on this later. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved. This song is not just me dicking around with my own songs --- this song is about the North and about the nature of Canada. It's easy to see why I say this... when you see the landscape, visit the small towns, and hear the words. The song is bigger than I am, and was always meant to be. (C) 1990-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock corporation. All rights reserved.

JUST LIKE THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA - Johnny Rock and the Angels

This is A SONG THAT COOKS, but you'll have to intuit the drums, the echo the lead guitar intertwining with the wailing harmonica. Even as is, I love this song. Because it gives me an idea of what can be. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. MilneThis is one of my favs of the songs I wrote - but it needs quite a bit of production. The harmonica has to wail away into the echoing distance. (No echo here...& my voice is crimped as if I sang this song in a closet. JUST LIKE THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA. This is A SONG THAT COOKS, but you'll have to intuit the drums, the echo the lead guitar intertwining with the wailing harmonica. Even as is, I love this song. Because it gives me an idea of what can be. (C)1990-2017 by W.G. Milne

IN THIS HOTEL --START WITH COMPASSION FOR YOURSELF

BUILDING THE HUT

I BUILT it 1973-1975.. My dad walked up to it with me some years before he died. And he died in 1978. I was going to build it north of Highway 63 and north of the train tracks, then he said: “Why don’t you build it on family land?” I was saying to him, “I’m not interested in business.” That must have annoyed him, for he sold the “family land” to a company about to be formed. So I had to get involved in the company and bought a share. Then I restricted the number of other shareholders involved, so I still had some control. I lived in the hut through two winters, stoking the woodstove – with no electricity or media.

"A STORMY NIGHT IN A PLACE CALLED HOME" and "TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE"

nope ---- UP UP UP

OUTPOST IN THE DEEP NORTH

HANK'S TALE Half my family died in a bomb blast LAst week. So I took this job here - only to discover that my boss, the editor of the Paper had died - in what seems a very strange manner. The newspaper has closed it's doors, I'm not sure why... The stories I'm hearing are too bizarre, so I'm renting a window and desk space upstairs at Artie's bar, which I'm told never closes. My window looks out over the Main Lane, which is rarely busy. The inhabitants of this place hit the bar at any hour. I hear shouts, racous laughter from the bar below...and the occasional shotgun blast - the only sounds in this village above the great McKenzie River. All else is silence. And the cawing of ravens and crows... Then more silence.

TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE

Take your jam off the table And that foreign marmalade Take it all, if you are able And lay it in a lonesome grave * Lay it with the pictures You always used to save The pictures of your boyfriend And the faces that he made * I LEFT my door wide open Out into the ran I thought I could close it long ago But I've never been the same * Your eyes are young and lovely Yor rivers are shining blue Lately I've heard the stories They've been telling on you * None of them are true (these stories) None of them are true They're not sories of you * Take your eyes off the sunset That screams into the night Take your mind off those cigarettes You smoke with all your might * What the priest in the churches didn't tell you Or the headlines in the smoke Amid rumours of gossip and war From minds that have lost their hope * There's a place that's for you On that further shore You can end your lonesome journey to the truth Right by your kitchen door * Take your jam off the table Keep it set for two I'll put a light in your window I'll wait there for you. * (C)1990 by William Milne

THERE IS ONE TIME BEYOND ALL TIME

There is one time beyond all time      that contains this history;
There is one mind beyond reason
      or rhyme
      that tastes this mystery:

"I am he who is beyond all names,
      who sees beyond time or place;
"I am He who is of the same
The Same attained to me, and I          realized it:
My own Identity, beyond names.
I am He who was before my
       forefathers came to be."

SPECIES CAN DREAM

HOWEVER MUCH you pay us - a dollar or a dime With mountains above us or with a stream, We're the ony species who can stand And laugh and cry at the same time ...And dream. (C)2021 by W.G. Milne

Bob Dylan - Changing of the Guards (Audio) EDEN IS BURNING...iMAGES AND SYMBOLS--- DIRECT POETRY AND SPEECH

THE MEANING OF LIFE

Because I mentioned I passed thru the ENLIGHTENMENT experience... people ask me questions... There are angels and powers all around us.. and if you do your sitting,you'll meet mind masters from around the globe. All you have to do is prepare a space within you - a space where Grace may enter - and learn to listen in depth. Wonders with come once your heart-mind opens.

Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up") There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day. The things which I have seen I now can see no more. The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;— Thou Child of Joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy. Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning, This sweet May-morning, And the Children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:— I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! —But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone; The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learn{e}d art A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That Life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,— Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by; Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest; Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:— Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

White Dress EROS WITH TIFFANY

Tiffany Preston in White Dress

In this world though everything must change, "YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME." I wrote this on a ship going around the world. I did two concerts on the ship, this paid for half my fare. I fell in love with the ship's nurse. She was leaving the ship in the bay of Naples - to go back to Denmark. This song's about our last night together. She was asleep in the bed of my cabin ( cabin U2). I watched her dreaming as I sat at my desk, her face coloured in the light of a coloured lantern hanging from above. I could feel the movement of the ship as she slept. "And they say pain will defeat us But I I just can't see it I'm too happy to believe it... IN this world though everything must change, YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME." (C)1980-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved. Hope you like this song as much as I do!

ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME

Rebel Music (3 O' Clock Roadblock) (Live At The Rainbow Theatre, London ...