Moon on the Hill (For Áine and the Cookes)
Words and music by A. H. Jessup
©2001, Amos H. Jessup

Amos' Comments:  For those of you who recall Aine's distress and delight at acquiring her new home the following little house warming gift will be understandable. It captures the important parts of the deal which may have been overlooked in the flurry of making minor adjustments to pipes and such:

The bluebirds of Texas fly down with the dawn,
Coming West from Jeanette, and the place I was born
Crossing over wide waters by Pickett and Roane,
Far away from the bayous I used to call home.

And for all their far travels, they know they are bound
To the place where the heavens reach clear to the ground
Where their dreams have recalled them, and call them there still
To the wild Texas oaks by the Moon on the Hill.

             I have seen it in dreams, by the fireside glow,
            Where the children are playing,  and the bluebonnets grow,
            And when I am old, they will call me there still,
            I was born to come home to the Moon on the Hill.

I was born in French quarters where the bayou runs by
But I've dreamed of a castle since before I was five
Where sweet evening primroses nod in the shade
And the old roses climb from the Wild Texas sage.

I have dallied in Dallas, where the going was hard,
In Springhill, Montalba, and Blackfoot and Ward
Up at Cherokee Landing, and the Big Sandy stream,
But they none of them sang like the song in my dreams...

          I have seen it in dreams, by the fireside glow,
          Where the children are playing,  and the bluebonnets grow,
          And when I am old, they will call me there still,
          For I was born to come home to the Moon on the Hill.

It has taken forever, it seems, I am sure
For the scars and the struggles  of hard times to cure
But love worked its magic, as love often will
And we all found our way to the Moon on the Hill.

There were Indian paintbrush in the hard Texas ground,
And the soft blackeyed susan which grew all around,
And the  winds bring the smell of the daisies across
Through the lamb's-ear and mint, and the old Irish moss.

          I have seen it in dreams, by the fireside glow,
          Where the children are playing, and the bluebonnets grow,
          And when I am old, they will call me there still,
          For I was born to come home to the Moon on the Hill.

A light heart lives long, 'twas my ancestors said,
And I know in my heart, as I lay down my head,
That the hard days are over, though work there is still,
And I know we will flower at Moon on the Hill.

And the songs by the fire and the soft Texas breeze
Will bring us again to the old maple trees,
Though we cross the wild oceans, and nations and plains,
'Tis the Moon on the Hill that will call us again.

             I have seen it in dreams, by the fireside glow,
             Where the children are playing, and the bluebonnets grow,
             And when I am old, they will call me there still,
             For I was born to come home to the Moon on the Hill
             I was born to come home to the Moon on the Hill.

Love,  A.