Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Lonesome EJ Date: 29 Oct 10 - 04:09 PM Lyte Me Once upon a time a woodcutter wandered far from his home to where he had been told a cluster of old oak trees stood, one of them an ancient giant now standing dead. Such wood will burn hot for a very long time, and the woodcutter knew it would bring needed gold to him and his wife and baby. He followed a narrow creek into the hills, dragging a cart behind him. Indeed, the old oak stood where he had been told, and he took his ax and began to cut it into pieces, which he stacked in his cart. As he stacked the wood and wiped the sweat from his brow, he felt a change in the weather, and it grew bitter cold. Late in the day as the sun crept below the ridge, he turned his cart and began to roll his load toward home. He had not gone far when snow began to fall, the wheels of his cart beginning to lurch and stick in the fresh layer. Suddenly, he noticed a path which seemed to lead a parallel course to his through a thick woods. He took this path, finding the going much easier, but where it emerged from the woods, he saw nothing he recognized. Before him lay a large meadow like a white blanket, with the remnants of burnt stumps and trunk of trees poking out. The path continued this way and so he went on, aiming to turn downstream along the river to where his home must be. The path ended in a mist-shrouded clearing which held the remnant of a cabin or, to be specific, a stone floor and standing chimney. Below this lay not the river, but a smooth white area where the fresh snow seemed to hide a small lake. The woodcutter trundled his load forward, bringing it to rest by the ruined cabin. He took from his wagon a large canvas tarpaulin and rigged a rude shelter over the stone floor with one end tied to the chimney, and he brushed the snow from the floor. Over the chimney opening had been placed a large piece of flagstone. It required all of his strength to move it. At last, when he had rolled the stone away, he was amazed to see a dry pile of kindling and logs neatly placed on the fire grate. Just in front of the grate was a single match which lay on a sheet of yellowed paper. On this paper was written two words..."lyte me". The woodcutter needed no more prompting, as his fingers were quite numb by now with cold. He struck and shielded the match, and soon he had a warm fire blazing in the fireplace. By now the snow had stopped and the moon swung low in the night sky. As he lay with his back against the cart wheel, the woodcutter fell asleep. It was the heat which awoke him. Flames were shooting out the fireplace, and the top of the chimney was sending spires of fire into the sky. The woodcutter tried to dampen the fire with armloads of snow, but to no avail. Suddenly, the canvas roof of his makeshift shelter was all afire. He quickly untied it from his cart and rolled it away across the floor, when he looked back to see s terrible sight. Something with the shape of a human being but made of smoke and flame was slowly extricating itself from the fireplace. As he stood frozen in fear, the thing rose to its feet. It was perhaps four feet tall, witha constantly changing physical form, but with its most prominent features a pair of smoldering charcoal eyes, and a mouth which gaped open, a long tongue of flame flickering from it. Instinctively, the woodcutter took his axe, raising it to strike a blow, when the thing seemed to scream and a torrent of flame shot through the air, igniting the man's clothing, hair, and beard. The woodman stumbled blindly into the meadow, flames all around him, at last falling into the snow in which he was at last able to extinguish himself. Rising on hands and knees, he watched as the creature seemed to embrace his cart and its load of timber, everything now roaring in flames. From this conflagration, something soon took shape. The creature, now towering 7 feet tall or more, stalked across the floor toward him. The woodman turned into the darkness, and began to run for his life. When he turned he saw the thing pursuing him, leaving a furrow of scorched earth though the snow field. He ran into the vast level field, the snow tripping and slowing him, when he suddenly heard a creak and groan. It was the ice on the lake beneath, moving under his weight. He turned to see the creature was nearly on him, nearly blinding against the black of the night. Cowering, he raised his arms against the blistering heat when , with a groan, the ice opened beneath the creature's feet, and it fell though the surface. For several seconds the entire surface was aglow like a huge pool of lava. Then, accompanied by a sound like a gust of wind through pines, everything was again cold and dark. How the woodman found his home that night he couldn't say, but just before dawn he stumbled through the door, his worried wife shrieking at the sight of this blackened stranger. No one believed his story, although he bore some evidence of its truth: Neither on his face nor the top of his head would hair ever again grow. And on the coldest nights he would be seen to bundle himself in all manner of heavy clothing but never, never, would he be found enjoying the simple comfort of the hearth fire. No, I don't think the campfire needs more wood just yet. It's plenty hot for my taste. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 29 Oct 10 - 01:35 PM Ooops! Dang. Well, who needs marshmallows when you have rum? How about something from you, EJ? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Lonesome EJ Date: 29 Oct 10 - 01:02 PM Bravo, Claire, spooky yet heart-warming. But be careful, your marshmallow has ignited! |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Amos Date: 28 Oct 10 - 10:11 PM Tinker, That version of White Wings was one of the first my mother taught me when we were old enough to stand up to doing harmony. We used to crawl out on the roof of our house in Maine, in the summertime, and sing it under the moon in three parts. A |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 09:36 PM Janie! Have some rum, and sing us a song or something! Want some of my blanket? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Janie Date: 28 Oct 10 - 09:33 PM Bravo! Sure, I'll have a sip, just let me throw another log on first.... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 09:11 PM Oh, thank goodness you;re still here! It was getting lonely and a little bit creepy. I wasn't quite done, actually -- there's one more installment. Let me get a swig of -- well, never mind -- and I'll finish up. My! It's a cold night! * * * But as bafflingly as they'd all come, they had gone, And prepared as he was, he was left all alone. He went and peered down at the lights of the town. "Should I warn them that there are such creatures around?" But as he asked the question, the last lights twinkled out, So he snuffed out his lamp and turned quickly about. OOPS! He bumped into someone, and got quite a scare, For a dark-hooded ghoul appeared, standing ... right THERE! "Joe…," spoke The Grim Reaper -- it spoke nothing more. It merely stood, blocking his way through the door. "Aye," said the woodsman. "I know what you wish. If you'll please step inside, I'll prepare you a dish." He walked past The Reaper and brushed it aside, As he brought forth his fudge in a flourish of pride. "Now taste this ... and tell me it isn't the best Of any confection e'er put to the test." Now as strange as that was, well, it gets stranger still -- and if you don't believe me, you soon enough will. He clapped his guest's back, as he showed it the door: "When ye've et up that batch, come on back -- I'll make more." The Reaper took the sack and it nodded assent, Then, smacking its lips, its obligingly went. And though each year the Reaper this errand repeats It arrives for old Joe -- and departs with Joe's sweets! That was long, long ago, and some claim it's not true, But I'll tell you a secret, just between me and you. I have here some candy ... and as maybe you've guessed, It's the finest confection e'er put to the test. So come on along, all ye oddly dressed moblins, Come on then! I've no fear of witches or goblins. When the lantern is lit on the top of the hill, Just be sure that the woodsman is living here still. # # # There! That's all there is. Anyone want some fudge? Pass the sack around! That fire feels good, but it's bone-chilling cold out here tonight! |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 28 Oct 10 - 09:01 PM That was great, Claire Bear! Throw another log on the fire. Alice |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 08:31 PM Nobody else got anything? My, it's lonely tonight, Well then, here's a bit more... * * * His heart pounded so, that he scarcely could hear The ghost's "Twick or Tweat!" as she choked back a tear. But she thrust forth her sack and she mutely entreated, Her little hands trembling as her courage retreated. "Spirit, what do you seek?" Asked the frightened woodsman. "I'll comply if I must. I will do what I can." "Twick or Tweat," she replied. "Any candy fow me?" "Oh dear me," he said. "I might just. Let me see." He made haste to comply, lest he anger his guest. His homemade confection was, luckily, the best. "I have sweets," said the woodsman. "But you must agree: If I fill your bag, bring no mischief on me." "I'm a kind, fwiendly ghost!" she laughed 'neath her sheet, "So I might wet you wiv if you give me a tweat." Soon, Joe wiped his brow as she homeward did trudge. Her little sack bulging with sweet, homemade fudge. And as Joe closed his door, he declared to the night That "In all my born days I've not seen such a sight." In the township below, a sole light flickered on, Then another, another, so forth and so on. And a bustling arose as small creatures poured forth, And they aimed for the hill as a needle points North. A monster, a ghost, and a fairy princess; A woodsman, a werewolf, a maid in distress; Ali Baba, Kublai Khan, Robin Hood and Maid Marion; Tiny Tim, Captain Hook, and a small glowing skeleton. Now, can you imagine the expression he wore When the old woodsman answered this knock at his door? "Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat! Fill our bags! Give us sweets!" Then they haunted the porch as he made them all treats, You could feel his relief as the last left his door. "I'll keep cooking," said he. "They might come back for more." * * * Say, is anybody else getting hungry here, or is it just me? Anyone? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 07:17 PM There, that's better. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. * * * And each All Hallows' Eve, at the Turn of the Year, Those costumed as woodsmen instilled the most fear. And though children from each lighted porchway would spill Not a one braved that darkened old house on the hill. Then one year, the woodsman outside hung a light To assist him in tending his garden at night. He little suspected the message and greeting That lamp sent to those who were out trick-or-treating. They gawked and they whispered. They pointed. They stared. But no one went close … they were all far too scared. They filled up their bags at the houses they knew, Till the porch lights went out as the goodies grew few. Then homeward they crept down the dark, spooky road, For down dale and up hill, only one porch light glowed. But one last sheet-clad youngster still lingered out there, Her bag full of nothing but cold, empty air. For although it's unfair, yet it oft doth befall, That the timidest child receives no treats at all. Though she bravely trudged on, and her tears hardly showed, The ghostly child's sobs could be heard down the road. Yet in the downtrodden, hope often will shimmer, And this night, on the hill, she espied a small glimmer. This little ghost saw one last chance to succeed, And she raced up the hill at an un-ghostlike speed. She came to the door and stood dabbing her tears, With a longing outweighing the worst of her fears. The woodsman was startled by the knock on his door, For indeed, such a thing had not happened before. He opened his door just the tiniest bit, And then gasped! and fell back just as if he'd been hit. For there on the doorstep, in billowing splendor, Stood a ghost -- or, at least, a convincing pretender. * * * Where has that bottle got to, anyway? Oh, there it is! |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 05:31 PM Great idea, EJ. OK then...I found this poem online, and left it as alone as I could, but you know, I'm an editor, and I just couldn't help fiddling with it. So George, if you read this, I hope you like what I did. Here's the first bit of it... All Hallows Eve adapted by from a poem written by George L. Avery Down a little-used path in a deep humble wood, Lived a woodsman named Joe—a recluse, shy but good. He had nary a neighbor, for no one lived near, So he lived in contentment, long year after year. He'd built a wee cabin on the wood's highest ground, From whose door he could gaze on the forest all 'round. He plucked food from his garden, pulled fish from the streams, In that wood he was living the life of his dreams. To his joy, he'd no neighbors to borrow or steal, To bring hustle and bustle or fervor and zeal. But Time passed his cabin, and with it came change, One night he smelt woodsmoke, which struck him as strange. So the very next morning, when the smoke hung about, He laced up his boots and he quickly set out. He made the short trek to the edge of his wood And found he had neighbors—a new cabin stood. What misfortune! Egad! Would this herald a trend? You'd have thought that his world had just come to an end. The woodsman crept back to the trees with a sigh, Then he hurried away, as a tear dimmed his eye. And made signs that he hung on the trees, every one, Saying "CALLERS NOT WELCOME" and "LEAVE ME ALONE." The signs did their work, for no one, well or ill, Came to call on the woodsman on the crest of the hill. More families arrived, and a neighborhood sprang. Each new chimney top gave the woodsman a pang. Soon, rumors were whispered that bode him no good: "There's a wicked old woodsman who lives in the wood." "He eats children for tea ... He's got horns on his head." "He's a ghost. He's a ghoul. He's the walking undead." Small children awoke in the night with a cry, In fear that the woodsman was stalking nearby. * * * ...there! That's a start. Hey, that's thirsty work! Who else wants a swig from this bottle? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Lonesome EJ Date: 28 Oct 10 - 05:07 PM break it up into multiple posts, then Claire. Increases the suspense. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: ClaireBear Date: 28 Oct 10 - 04:58 PM Hey! That reminds me. I have an All-Hallows Eve story that I re-edited for recitation from an original poem by George L. Avery. It's kind of long, though; I don't know... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Lonesome EJ Date: 28 Oct 10 - 12:06 AM Terrific old Halloween Campfire thread, with some embers still glowing in the old ring. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: MMario Date: 19 May 06 - 08:30 AM Different song Tinker.... I am homeward bound for Orkney! I am homeword bound..... Rings of Sun on Standing stones, Dreams engraved on sculptured bone I am homeward bound for Orkney.... I am homeward bound... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 19 May 06 - 07:58 AM Mmmmmm lovely songs. I'm assuming it's NOT raining where we are. 9 days and yesterday's 2 hours of sun was the record. I think I'm molding or mildewing or something. Back to the campfire to dry things out. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Tinker Date: 18 May 06 - 10:27 PM Mmario, this was one of the oldest songs we sang at camp, but your's seems to be different --- You might know the tune as "black socks" WHITE WINGS (Banks Winter, 1912) Sail! home, as straight as an arrow, My yacht shoots along on the crest of the sea; Sail! home, to sweet Maggie Darrow, In her dear little home She is waiting for me. High up! where cliffs they are craggy There's where, the girl of my heart waits for me Heigh! ho, I long for you, Maggie I'll spread out my "White Wings" And sail home to thee. Yo! ho, how we go! Oh! how the winds blow! "White Wings" they never grow weary, They carry me cherrily over the sea. Night comes, I long for my dearie, I'll spread out my "White Wings" And sail home to thee. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: MAG Date: 18 May 06 - 09:09 PM I don't know that one, Susan A-R, but it looks like one I would like to learn. I'll check out the DB. I missed my annual rounds fix by not being able to go to Portland's Singtime Frolics. I have tried, and tried, to start a rounds group. Am not quite ready to put an ad in the paper. Around here you tend to get run over by someone else' sagenda. This all reminds me of one of the best campfires of my life. Back when I used to go the the Storytelling Festival in TN I camped at Dvy Crockett campgound, as did a lot of other people. (The fest has gotten so big, it's probably overrun these days.) Chuck L. had a nice fire and invited anyone interested to come over and sing, so my party did. I had my guitar, Chuck with his banjo, we just wailed away the night. We must have played Old Joe Clark for half an hour. As Gamble Rogers would say, Ah, Nostalgia. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: MMario Date: 18 May 06 - 03:15 PM anyone know harmonies for 'White Wings'? I thought I had some songsheets around here somewhere... White wings on the dark ocean Endless waves on restless waters.... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Janie Date: 18 May 06 - 02:30 PM "Hummmm hu-u-um hum everyday Flashes like a stray blue jay. Hummmm hu-u-umgolden crown upon each one Like an eagle seen against the sun." |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 17 May 06 - 08:42 PM Open Mike, I used to do the song version with friends. It is a nice one. For the round singing girls, how about Sweet the evening air of May, soft my cheek caressing Sweet the unseen lilac spray with it's scented blessing White and ghostly in the gloom Shiny apple trees in ploom Apple trees in bloom. Montpelier is all pink, white and lavender at this time of year. A little wet, but beautiful |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Jerry Rasmussen Date: 17 May 06 - 07:57 PM Hey, Alice: Springtime In The Rockies was my Father's favorite song. He rarely sang, but he used to sing that one, except he always sang the line "Once again I'll say Olive oil you." In retropsect, sounds kinda kinky. And looking back at earlier posts (before I were a Mudcatter) I always liked I ride an old Paint. One day a few years ago, waiting in a check out line at and A & P I was thinking of that song and updated it, for my Ford Pinto. The first two lines were: "I drive an old Pinto gone long in the tooth Known by every mechanic from here to Duluth." Jerry |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: open mike Date: 15 May 06 - 08:19 PM oh you are doing midnight on the water? did you know it has lyrics? joining in....here are a couople of different versions.. with enough verses to allow enough instrumental solos for all.. music attributed to Benny Thomasson, words to John Croizat. There are times when I am blue, thinking of you and me. Midnight on the water and how it used to be. There are stars among the trees and some old memories I know. Midnight on the water, not so long ago. CHO: Though they are gone like falling leaves, Those dreams are clear as in a mirror, Made by the moon on the water. And our love was never stronger, But the picture was broken by the waves we left behind. Midnight on the water once upon a time. There are times when I am blue thinking of you and me, Midnight on the water and how it used to be. In the stillness of the lake where my thoughts turn back again. Midnight on the water, do you remember when? Though they are gone like floating leaves. Those dreams are clear as in a mirror, Made by the moon upon the water. And our love was never stronger, But the picture was broken by the waves we left behind. Midnight on the water once upon a time. Repeat last verse. There are times when I am blue thinking of you and me At midnight on the water and how it used to be. The stars among the trees in some old memories I know At midnight on the water not so long ago. Though they're gone like floating dreams, The scenes were there as in a mirror Made by the moon upon the water, And our love was never stronger. But the picture was broken by the waves we left behind, At midnight on the water once upon a time. There are times when I am blue thinking of you and me At midnight on the water and how it used to be. In the stillness of the lake where these thoughts take me again, At midnight on the water,do you remember when? Though they're gone like floating dreams, The scenes were there as in a mirror Made by the moon upon the water, And our love was never stronger. But the picture was broken by the waves we left behind, At midnight on the water once upon a time. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 15 May 06 - 07:50 PM My My, and I was going to start a round I learned in Girl Scouts. Hmmm, more like something about the black joke, or birds in the bush, or such like. THAT kind of camp fire. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Bert Date: 15 May 06 - 06:55 PM Hey Mick, tell me how to tune and play that low D, I've got a guitar that I want to try it on, and we can sing. As I was a walking one morning in May I met a pretty fair maid and unto her did say Ho Ro my pretty maiden, I really must confess I'm only interested in your cuckoo's nest. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 15 May 06 - 01:59 PM Now it's late enough in the day for that Vile Black Stuff. (Hmmm, what is it about black brews? Wonder if I drop the G on the fiddle to a D if I can do some nice drones along with that guitar? Started doing a lovely rendition of Midnight on the Water that way. Wanna give it a try? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: katlaughing Date: 14 May 06 - 11:53 PM Ah, what lovely songs. MAG, we always sang it with a repeat of the last three words (or so) of each line; like an echo, sort of.:-) |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Big Mick Date: 14 May 06 - 10:31 PM Friends, Low D, campfire, some Guinness........ ahhhhhh. Will the circle, be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by..... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Janie Date: 14 May 06 - 10:25 PM Ahhhhh.....I really enjoyed that nice, long, Mothers Day nap. The sound of your singing woke me so gently. Still doing rounds? Does anyone know this one? The roots of my heart go deep underground And entwine with the roots of your heart. I will love you deep in my heart. I will love you deep in my heart. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 14 May 06 - 09:49 PM Good to be in a spot where I'm not being kissed by the falling rain. I think the crisp clear evening is what drew me in, so now I'll put my feet up and Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free Stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs meet the sea Where the rivers run clear, bracken is gold in the sun Oh the cares of tomorrow can wait 'til this day is done. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Ebbie Date: 14 May 06 - 04:14 PM I've forgotten who wrote this but this campfire calls for it. Gently. When you've climbed the highest mountain And the clouds hold the sunshine in Suddenly there's a valley Where Earth knows Peace with Man When a cloud holds a distant rainbow And you think you can't find a friend Suddenly there's a valley Where friendships never end Touched only by the seasons Swept clean by thw the waving grain Surveyed by a happy bluebird And kissed by the falling ran... When you think there's no bright tomorrow And you feel you can't try again Suddenly there's a valley Where Hope and Love begin. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: MAG Date: 14 May 06 - 03:33 PM How convivial. I haven't been around for awhile, and am glad to be here now. Who is up for rounds? O how lovely is the evening When the bells are sweetly ringing Ding dong ding dong I learned it with the extra repeat measure on each line, but folks out here don't seem to do it that way. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 14 May 06 - 11:42 AM One morning, one morning, one morningin May I spied a young couple a making their way And one was a maiden, so sweet and so fair And the other was a soldier and a brave grenadier (Maybe she's the fiddler and he's the one who falls for the tunes this time.) Mmmm, how about a little Vermont syrup for those blueberry pancakes. A friend of mine brought me some lovely medium amber to share. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 14 May 06 - 11:18 AM Mother's Day morning here in the mountain camp, and it is blueberry pancakes on the campfire griddle! Mugs of coffee, tea and cocoa to go around, and, well, how about MAY MORNING DEW How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob Listening to the sounds and the bark of a dog Or in summer to wander the wide valleys through And to pick the wild flowers in the May morning dew. Summer is coming, Oh, Summer is near With the leaves on the trees and the sky blue and clear And the small birds are singing their fond notes so true And the wild flowers are springing in the May morning dew. The house I was born in is but a stone on a stone And all round the garden the weeds they have grown And all the fine neighbours that ever I knew Like the red rose have perished in the May morning dew. God be with the old folk, they are all dead and gone And likewise my brothers, young Denis and John As we tripped through the heather, wild hares to pursue Our joys they did mingle in the May morning dew. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 14 May 06 - 09:04 AM It's so nice to just sit and sip and listen to those old camp songs. If I can find a spot to put the coffee mug where it'll stay standing, I'll throw in a harmony there. Ah, that should do. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: AllisonA(Animaterra) Date: 14 May 06 - 07:46 AM Alice! Yes, I know that song, but we didn't start it with "A flicker in the campfire", just "Give me the light of the campfire" I learned it at Camp Tattapanum in 1970. Is there more? I've got a load of dry wood and a thermos of hot cocoa, as it's getting a bit chilly on the backside. The fire's nice, though. Thanks for reviving it! Allison |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Big Mick Date: 14 May 06 - 12:36 AM Here ya go ladies, a little more wood to keep the chill off. Mind if me and the ole Low D sit around. Been awhile, but it is nice to get away from the noise and sit with old friends. ...... "One night as I was a ridin'..... Mick |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: katlaughing Date: 13 May 06 - 11:59 PM From an old Roy Orbison tune...Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light, to join the singing at night I love campfires; good to see this one rekindled. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Janie Date: 13 May 06 - 11:47 PM Nope. I've never heard that one either. I remember a song we used to sing to start the campfire circle at 4-H camp. It is to the tune of "Geordie" As the bright flames ascend to heaven Oh God of love and truth We would in thought with thee commune Our joy, and peace and youth. The hills resound with our glad songs And echo back to thee. Our thanks received for work and play And love and loyalty. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 13 May 06 - 11:34 PM from the Flicker thread... I've never heard this one. Anyone have the tune to it? A flicker in the campfire, Wind in the pines The moon in the heavens, The stars that shine A place where people gather Make friends of all kinds, A place where old man trouble Is always left behind. Oh, give me the light of the campfire, Warm and bright And give me some friends to sing with I'll be here all night Love is for those who find it I found right here Just you and the light of the campfire And the songs I love to hear. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Janie Date: 13 May 06 - 11:30 PM The marshmellows are right here. Since Susan won't let us use her bow, I'll just pick out a few sticks from the woodpile....there! I like 'em burnt. Boy, the stars sure are bright tonight.... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 13 May 06 - 11:26 PM I think there's still quite a pile of firewood that Mick gave us. Should keep the campfire going quite some time. Gather round and warm your hearts and hands, folks. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 13 May 06 - 11:25 PM Yay! Chocolate AND fiddle music! |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Susan A-R Date: 13 May 06 - 11:22 PM Mind a fiddle riff on that? No, the bow is NOT for marshmellows. but I did bring the hershey bars. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Alice Date: 13 May 06 - 11:11 PM Well the start of this thread is lost, smudged out somewhere in the bottom layer of ashes in this old Mudcat camfire ring of stones. Here's a fresh pile of dry sticks and tinder, starting her up again, breathing in the forest scent of pine needles and crisp May evening air, the thread of smoke twisting up from the first flames. Here's a song to start us all off again, to gather the voices around the new fire... who has the marshmallows? When it's springtime in the Rockies I'll be comin' home to you... |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: SINSULL Date: 06 Jul 05 - 10:53 AM Tinker - any chance of you making the Lobster Boil or Jed's concert? Pleeeeease???? |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Tinker Date: 06 Jul 05 - 10:44 AM SINS, I think there is great merit in Joe as the next Mudcat ToyBoy... the dimples definately work for me.... I think we may need to work on the harmonies in California Dreamin' though the last version seemed.... well perhaps we added a little too much JD to the mix. Never mind if we don't film it it can live perfectly in our memories around the fire. I could use a few warm and fuzzies too. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: GUEST,LEJ Date: 06 Jul 05 - 12:13 AM I might have a lie or two in me. Let me mull it over for a minute. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: Amos Date: 06 Jul 05 - 12:11 AM Well, boy howdy LEJ!! Good ta see ya!! Had any wild adventures worth tellin'?? A |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Campfire From: GUEST,LEJ Date: 05 Jul 05 - 11:44 PM Hand me a bratwurst and a cup of that camp coffee while I throw another log on the fire. Nice and cool tonight. |
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