It occures to me when reading the part about BillD workshop that folkd might be amused at the song we wrote for his birthday a number of years ago. So here it is:
(to the tune of Mrs. Ravoon)
He drove in from Kansas, from Wichita U.
He'd had every job that a person could do.
Philosophize nature or count up some beans,
To seek out the Glen which could Echo his dreams.
Mr. Day could - make songs out of wood,
The Emperor's Universe should be good.
Now Bill he sold books that could make grown-ups drool.
He brought forth his auto-harp strings as a tool;
Carving out chords 'til his fingers did tire,
He laid out his songs by the warm winter's fire.
His hearth it lay firm on an energy line
That drew forth a woman persistent and kind.
He'd had loves before, but never like this;
His path it was turned by the force of her kiss.
This path, it turned in - to a journey now found
With forests that shimmered on magical ground.
He saw vibrant shapes in the hearts of the trees,
Heard whispering voices aloft in the breeze.
Their seed it did sprout, to a sapling it grew
Who felt the deep magic his parents both knew.
As this sapling got strong he brought visions anew,
For his father the maker made shapes that were true.
The family found wings as their talents did grow.
They drew on his skills and they joined in his shows.
He flies in the lead of a fantasy grown.
He goes with our love, but just where is unknown
It's hard to be sure just how ancient is Bill;
He'll spin you a tale as he guzzles his swill,
But he's weathered some seasons - of that we are sure,
And a person so crusty is bound to endure.
G. Rathbone, L. Van Buren 5/93, 5/94,5/99