Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 17/06/2018

Helen’s theme this week is seconds/minutes/hours.

Well, that gives plenty of scope. Practically every single artist will, at one time (see what I did there?) , have recorded a song with some time reference in it.

I am going with the very first thing that came to mind. That is “My grandfather’s clock.”

You can, if you wish, follow the words with the recording by Johnny Cash, which is here.

My Grandfather’s Clock

Song by Johnny Cash

My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf
So it stood ninety years on the floor
It was taller by half than the old man himself
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born
And was always his treasure and pride
But it stopped, short never to go again
When the old man died

Ninety years without slumbering
His life seconds numbering
It stopped, short never to go again
When the old man died

My grandfather said that of those he could hire
Not a servant so faithful he found
For it wasted no time and had but one desire
At the close of each week to be wound

And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face
And its hands never hung by its side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died

It rang and alarmed in the dead of the night
An alarm that for years had been dumb
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight
That his hour for departure had come

Still the clock kept the time with a soft and muffled chime
As we silently stood by his side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died

Ninety years without slumbering
His life seconds numbering
It stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died

Songwriters: Erich Doll / Henry Clay Work

However, I also offer this instrumental version by Leroy Troy. I don’t think he gets out much, apart from performing his clawhammer style of banjo playing!

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Sunday sayings #34

Life was oh so simple once, I knew its every whim,

but now it seems we need more rules, it’s getting really grim.

What became of common sense, fair play, and honesty?

We seem to have forgotten just how precious life can be!

 

The youngsters blame the older folk, the oldsters blame the young,

what became of tolerance, we’re all so highly strung?

We seem to analyse each move, and everything we do.

I used to understand my world but now I have no clue!

PHEW – I MADE IT!

I once set about reading The Bible all the way through.  I made it! (although a lot of it was skipped through very swiftly, because some parts are boring {quite a lot}) I don’t take the Bible as gospel (see what I did there!), but it is a tremendous work by many people over many, many years.

One of the bits that many people could recount, although not verbatim, is the bit about reaching the age of 70, and guess what, I made it!

Psalm 90:10 King James Version

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

That inspired the following little offering of ageist poetry:

Well, I’m buggered

Whoever thought? Three score years and ten,

and maybe, then, another ten;

but no excitement for the morrow

for it’s bound to end in sorrow,

and even if you reach that stage

you’ll surely creak, and feel your age;

but don’t get too complacent mate,

your number’s up, it’s just too late.

So, make the most of every day

before you have to fly away!

 

I fully intend to make the most of every day, with a little help from my friends.

For those who don’t know the real lyrics here they are

Sunday sayings #14

Heard on a bus

There’s a woman in a niqab, talking to her son in a non-English language.

On the seat in front of them: a white man, who turns around and tells the woman that she’s in the UK and should be speaking English.

On the seat in front of the white man, is an elderly white woman who points out: “We’re in Wales, and she’s speaking Welsh.”

 

Mae yna fenyw mewn niqab, yn siarad â’i mab mewn iaith nad yw’n Saesneg.

Ar y sedd o’u blaenau: dyn gwyn, sy’n troi o gwmpas ac yn dweud wrth y wraig ei bod hi yn y DU a dylai fod yn siarad Saesneg.

Ar y sedd o flaen y dyn gwyn, mae’n fenyw gwyn oedrannus sy’n nodi: “Rydym ni yng Nghymru, ac mae hi’n siarad Cymraeg.”

A reflection on Dementia

“It’s just moments now Dad, everything.

Just moments now, they don’t join up!”

 

“What don’t?”

 

“My memories. My life doesn’t join up. Can’t remember.”

 

“Someone else will remember. Someone will remember for you.”

 

From the final episode of Wallander

Twittering Tale #51 – 26 September 2017

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.

 Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

Each year he offered the first of the crop to his darling wife.

This year she was not there to receive it.
Gone.
The apple of his eye forever!

(140 characters)

Now, what was it?

I seem to have lost my whatsit,

I think I had it once.

I’m sure I had it yesterday,

I’m getting quite the dunce.

I think it’s called a memory

and rests inside my head.

I just can’t seem to find it.

I’ll sit and read instead!

No worries!

Worrying things the bus driver sometimes says.

“Next stop, the crematorium.”

A conversation not to be forgotten!

Today I was working in the front garden. I was digging out Grape Hyacinths and Bluebells that are always threatening to overtake every other plant.

A lady stopped to pass the time of day.  She lives fairly close by and I see her often, and wave. Occasionally we have a brief chat.

Today, she greeted me with, “Oh, I didn’t realise that you lived there, so close to me!” She told me that she was Secretary of the local Allotment Society, and how busy that kept her. She also informed me that she had a pacemaker fitted, and how it had given her a new lease of life.

The conversation progressed along traditional lines and then she set off to continue her journey home.

I did not let on that we had had an identical conversation last time she passed by when I was gardening at the front, almost at the same spot.

As she left I said, “I’m Peter by the way!”

She reminded me of her name.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what it is!!