Subject: Lyr Add: ROLL TURN SPIN (from Benji Aronoff)
From:
Art Thieme
Date: 24 Feb 00 - 06:29 PM
from the singing of Benji Aronoff.
ROLL TURN SPIN
(Len Chandler, from Benji Aronoff)
Roll, turn, spin---wheel we're in,
Tick, tock and toll on the bell,
Round and round---in, out, up, down,
The wheel will keep turning forever.
He brought her sweets and things to eat,
A clip to bind up her hair,
Her hair hung down---he liked it bound,
She'd bind it no more come the morning.
The candy and his beaded strand,
Were not all he would pay,
For secrets slip from love-drunk lips,
And help to pave the way to coming morning.
She'd shine his boots and press his suits,
And pass his secrets on,
Not caring what the townsmen thought,
In calling her the wife of the invader.
Old friends pretend that she was dead,
As dead she'd risked to be,
But all would know at dawn's first glow,
They'll tell them that she never was a traitor.
The days she'd vowed---the tears she'd cried
The dauntless deaths that she died,
Her enemy still could not see,
That she must only fain(?) her love 'til morning.
And in the circle of her arms,
He felt a warning chill,
You could not weigh the purse he paid,
To hold back the sun and the morning.
And with every tick that followed tock,
He wished that clock were still,
But the hourglass calls just as fast
But silently the coming of the morning.
For rebel sons with sullen guns,
Were waiting for the sign,
In the steeple spire they tend the fire,
A fire that would burst into morning.
And in the stark and ancient dark,
A marksman takes his aim,
And waits for him to step through
The door that knew no morning.
The night was clear of fog and fear,
As he stepped through her door,
And then they heard the signal word,
His farewell to Thomasina.
In the dark the shot that sparked
Like a cock that crowed for the dawn,
And with that sign---one stroke behind,
The breaking of the long awaited morning.
She rubbed her hands in the cleansing sand,
And called aloud her own name,
And with great care unbound her hair,
And let it fall free to her shoulders.
Roll, turn, spin--wheel we're in,
Tick, tock and toll on the bell,
The sands will spill and shift until,
A new day will be a-dawning.
I do hope this is what you're looking for.
---Art Thieme
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sj
