And then, there are songs I've written that were consciously in the style of the old ballads. Many years ago, when I was working at the Newark Museum, I was looking through some old newspapers in their archives and came across a short article about a heinous (always wanted to use that word) murder that took place in the South. It had everything you could want for a song. The man that was murdered was Colonel Soloman P. Sharp. Not Jus So Sharp. That middle initial was very import. He was murdered in his home by a man who identified himself as John Covington. Covington was a total stranger who appeared one night at his door and asked if Colonel Sharp could put him up for the night. During the night, Covington stabbed the Colonel to death and disappeared into the night. I wrote the song because I thought it was such a great story. I may have to dust it off, if I can find all the words, and do it at a workshop I'll be doing at NOMAD this year with Sandy & Caroline Paton and Frank and Barbara Shaw titled Sing Me A Story.

The story's the thing.

Jerry