And They Said It Wouldn't Last

by Bill & Brenda Sutton

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about

Years in the making! Finally in digital format! And They Said It Wouldn't Last contains songs old and new, studio and live, funny and serious - all from the award-winning pens of Bill and Brenda Sutton. You'll laugh! You'll cry! You'll tell your friends to give us money as well!

credits

released August 16, 2016

©℗ 2016 Bedlam House, Ltd. www.bedlamhouse.com

Produced and mixed by Bill Sutton
Mastered by W. Scott Snyder
Cover art by Todd Cameron Hamilton

Acknowledgements: This CD would not exist without the support of so many people. Thanks to the Conflikt 2012 concom and John Seghers for the live tracks, to Bill & Gretchen Roper of Dodeka for letting us re-mix tracks from our tape “Owling at the Moon”, to Harold Stein for capturing the DetCon Chorus. Special thanks to Scott Snyder for advice on recording and mixing and for helping us get the most out of our little recording booth – and for traveling to the wilds of Indiana to help with logistics and provide the final butt-kicking required to get us in gear. Thanks to Brenda's mom Beverly Erbacher for putting up with the noise and inconvenience of having the studio right next to her room. Thanks to all those who pre-ordered the CD not thinking it would be over 2 years before it was finally done.

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Track Name: Sense Of Wonder
Words and music by Bill Sutton & Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2008 Mad Tom Music

Children leap into the fray that is the challenge of each day
In that vast laboratory – the backyard.
In shorts and tennis shoes they’re sent to gather and experiment.
No quiz is too complex, no task too hard.
From the puff ball to the glider, to the traction of the spider,
To the fine aerodynamics of the kite,
From the mud pie to the icicle, to mastering the bicycle
The child tackles everything in sight…with

A sense of wonder, a sense of marvel,
A sense of passion in the soul,
A shout, “Eureka!” that links them to the whole.
The answer’s not the answer though the question’s satisfied.
They’ve got to find the meaning in the ride…
With a sense of wonder!

Children change and, when they grown, forget the joys they used to know
To relive the grinding lives their parents led.
They leave a box, to drive a box, to get to work inside a box,
They watch a box, and then they go to bed.
Each day’s a dull and devious depiction of the previous
Monotonous old rut from start to close.
So, is it any great surprise when they fail to realize
The wide and wondrous world that’s just beyond their nose?

No sense of wonder, no sense of marvel,
No sense of passion in the soul,
No shout, “Eureka!” that links them to the whole.
The answer’s not the answer though the question’s satisfied.
They’ll never find the meaning in the ride
With no sense of wonder.

Have you sniffed a baby’s head? Jumped and bounced upon your bed?
Captured lightning bugs? Or tracked a bull frog’s sound?
Laid out watching trails of light that steak a sleepy August night?
Have you watched the seeds of new life break the ground?
Would your whole world fall apart if you followed your true heart,
If you danced a jig to the sound of a different drum?
Just recall that point of view; like children, see each day as new,
And gladly seize it when the sight of something comes…with

A sense of wonder, a sense of marvel,
A sense of passion in the soul,
A shout, “Eureka!” that links us to the whole.
The answer’s not the answer though the question’s satisfied.
They’ve got to find the meaning in the ride…
With a sense of wonder!
Track Name: High Fantasy
Words & music by Bill Sutton
©2007 Mad Tom Music

“Deconstruction Rock is brought to you by…The New Yorker!”

Genre fiction isn’t so hard.
You can get a lot of pleasure with a library card.
But telling your friends what you read
Is never quite as easy as the editor says.
The definition’s blurry
If you get into a hurry
Tell me, is it Sword and Sorcery?
Or Epic? Or High Fantasy?

So, what’s a choosy reader to do?
If you want to make it simple there’s an answer for you.
Here’s a list of questions to ask
To make describing fantasy an easier task.
So, when your reading’s rigourous
You know you can rely on us
Just check off every item
(And then don’t forget to cite ’em!¹

“High Fantasy should contain one or more of the following elements, with Item #1 paramount:”

Does it have a made-up world?
Yes, it has a made-up world!

Is there magic in the air?
There is magic in the air!

Are there languages to learn?
There are languages to learn!

Are there monsters in their lairs?
There are monsters in their lairs!

Are there gods who walk around?
There are gods who walk around!

Are there elves and dwarven folk?
There are elves and dwarven folk!

Is there a battle and a quest?
There’s a battle and a quest!

Is technology a joke?
Yes, technology’s a joke!

So, if it looks like Tolkien, reads like Tolkien,
Sounds like Tolkien, bleeds like Tolkien,
Quests like Tolkien, sings like Tolkien,
Fights and wins and rings like TolkienThen it must be…

The Sword of Shannara.

“The more you know.”

¹List elements from Wilson & Alroy on High Fantasy Novels
Track Name: Women With Drums
Words and music by Bill Sutton
©2002 Mad Tom Music

Hear that rhythm down the street?
Mama’s got a brand new beat.
Whole new use for that leather skin
Knockin’ on the floor, don’t let ’em in!

Women with drums! Women with drums!
Something wicked this way comes!
No place left to run away,
No place left that’s safe to play!
Women with drums! Women with drums!

One and two and hear it spread.
“It’s addictive,” someone said.
Baby’s gone percussion mad,
Spent the money you thought you had.

Women with drums! Women with drums!
Something wicked this way comes!
No place left to run away,
No place left that’s safe to play!
Women with drums! Women with drums!

Sticks, stones, clickin’ them bones,
Doumbeks, claves, traffic cones,
Lookin’ for something thick and tight,
Bangin’ on everything in sight!

Women with drums! Women with drums!
Something wicked this way comes!
No place left to run away,
No place left that’s safe to play!
Women with drums! Women with drums!

Tippers turnin’, watch the sticks fly.
Danger lurks for the guitar guy.
Int’resting shapes in wood and brass.
Don’t say a word or they’ll beat your…head.

Women with drums! Women with drums!
Something wicked this way comes!
No place left to run away,
No place left that’s safe to play!
Women with drums! Women with drums!

Women with drums! Women with drums!
Some damn racket this way comes!
No place left to run away,
No place left that’s safe to play!
Women with drums! Women with drums!
Track Name: Where's My Flying Car?
Words & music by Bill Sutton & Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2014 Mad Tom Music

Oh, the future is grand. The future is great.
The politician’s get along so well they almost never debate.
The economy’s strong and continues to grow.
So, there’s just one thing remaining that I’ve got to know:

Where’s my flying car? Where’s my flying car?
World peace is great and so’s the cancer vaccine,
But where’s my fundamental, futuristic flying machine?
Where’s my flying car?

Oh, the future is fun. The future is swell.
There’s a Starbucks Hotel on every corner that sells water as well.
We’ve got flights to the moon and vacations on Mars,But there’s something more important than a trip to to the stars:

Where’s my flying car? Where’s my flying car?
Got my replicated 5-star gourmet meal,
But where’s my automatic, aerobatic automobile?
Where’s my flying car?

The future’s a thought. The future’s a door.
We’ve got warp drive convention elevators to the party floor.
We’ve got perfect clones, an artificial womb,
An antiseptic android who can clean our rooms – but…

Where’s my flying car? Where’s my flying car?
I’ve checked with Top Gear and in Detroit and Japan.
Where’s my super stylish, swiftly soaring, seagull sedan?
Where’s my flying car? Where’s my flying car?

Then again, with my luck, knowing just where I am,
I’ll be gridlocked in a vertical, vehicular jam.
Where’s my flying car? Where’s my flying car?
Where’s my flying car?

Vrooom, vrooom, vrooom!
Track Name: Take It Step By Step
Words by Bill Sutton & Brenda Sinclair Sutton, music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2008 Mad Tom Music

We took the pilgrimage to Fuji in our Summer of Japan.
Hiking from the very bottom was our goal.
Men of ninety do the climb in just seven hours time.
Twenty miles uphill is really just a stroll.

Take it step by step. You can walk the longest road.
Take it step by step. You can carry any load.
Take it step by step. You can bring it all together
You can make it if you take it step by step.

Twenty steps and stop and pant, then twenty steps and stop and pant.
It’s been hours and we’re only halfway there.
It we keep on pressing on we might make it by the dawnOr we could hitchhike with those piggies in the air.

Take it step by step. You can walk the longest road.
Take it step by step. You can carry any load.
Take it step by step. You can bring it all together
You can make it if you take it step by step.

When at last we reached the summit, we looked deep within ourselves
Even though the ashy clouds obscured our view.
Filthy, freezing, cold, and dead – then the thought cam to our heads:
“Now we’ve got the blasted climb back down to do!”

Take it step by step. You can walk the longest road.
Take it step by step. You can carry any load.
Take it step by step. You can bring it all together
You can make it if you take it step by step.

Take it step by step. You can walk the longest road.
Take it step by step. You can carry any load.
Take it step by step. You can bring it all together
You can make it if you take it step by step.
Track Name: This Turn Of the Wheel
Words & music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©1986 Mad Tom Music

This turn of the Wheel I found myself with you.
This pause in our lives we came together.
Time seems to have slipped, our years mis-synched a few,
But we ran back the Wheel – now we’ll run on forever.

When did we first turn and touch? This life or the last?
When next will we love this much? What future, what past?Until then how to fill the hours without warm thoughts of you?
Holding tightly or letting go – which kindest to do?

Next turn of the Wheel, I know that you’ll be there.
That time will be our to share together.
Until we find that place, I’ll hold my bits of you,
Lock them in my mind and guard the precious treasure.

You taught me to give myself wholly without fear.
You gave me your pleasured touch each time we were near.
You showed me your smiling face, you showed me your pain.
You came to me openly. Please, love, come again.

This turn of the Wheel, I found myself with you.
Track Name: Caretakers
Words & music by Bill Sutton
©1985 Mad Tom Music

In the time of rising mountains
In the age when life was new,
The trees were the rulers of life on earth
And the world as a forest grew.
But new life found the forest,
And a new life tore the land –
So the dryad came to protect the wood,
To stay the human hand (singing…)

I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.

In the time of ancient mountains,
In an age no longer new,
A man walked into the hardwood grove
With a chainsaw and its crew.
He reached for the crippled oak tree,
And he waved his crew to start,
When a vision leapt from the broken linb
And pierced him to the heart (singing…)

I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.

She was Sun and Moon and Starlight,
She was Earth and Sky and Sea,
She was everything that he’d ever loved,
And all that he wished to be.And she sang of the elder forests,
And she sang of the rustling wind,
And her arms reached out from the jagged bark,
Reached out to pull him in (singing…)

I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.

But the man pulled out an acorn,
And he held it to her eyes,
And he sang to her of birth and life -That even an oak must die.
Then she knew that her tree had withered,
So she turned, no longer strong,
And she passed away while the chainsaw roar
Drowned out her final song (singing…)

I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.

In the night under ancient mountains,
In the night under autumn sky,A man looks down at a rotting stump;
He shakes his head and sighs.
So he kneels to plant the acorn,
And he hears a quiet sound,
A song of joy and the hope of spring –
The new life in the ground (singing…)

I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.
I am the strength of the heart and the root,
I am the soul of the wood.
Track Name: Name Me Jonathan
Words & music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©1987 Mad Tom Music

Deep within the womb I cried out
To my parent’s minds, “Name me Jonathan!
For John is strong, and Johnny’s cute,
And Jack is kind and smart to boot,
And Jonathan would suit me oh so fine.
Please, name me Jonathan!”
But out I popped and Granny said,
“Looks like Cousin Mildred. Name her Mildred.”
They named me Mildred.

You should have heard me rail at them
For all the good it did. “Name me Jonathan!
Don’t make me carry that around.
It doesn’t sing! I hate the sound!
And Mildred is an awkward, backward kid.
Please, name me Jonathan!”
But my parents couldn’t understand
That I could never be a man named Mildred.
They named me Mildred.

Round peg in a trapezoidal hole;
Never really what the name implied.
I was a round peg in a trapezoidal hole.
Shoved into a painful slot,
Urged to be what I was not,
Folded, molded, link by chain,
By an awful, horrid name…Mildred.

My young years flew and soon I grew
Into the very essence of a Mildred.
Uncomfortable inside a dress;
It gave my parent’s much distress
To know that I would rather wear blue jeans
Preferred by Jonathan
I’d sneak out of the ballet hall
To run some laps and play some ball for Jonathan…
But not quite Jonathan.

The day I cut off all the curls
And vowed no more to be a girl named Mildred
My loving father called me “freak”,
My mother said that I was weak,
But it took strength I thought I’d never find
To live as Jonathan.
I left, and when I closed their door
I knew that it would open up for Mildred.
I wasn’t Mildred.

Square peg in a trapezoidal hole
Acting out an artificial part.
I was a square peg in a trapezoidal hole,
Never quite like other guys,
Stumbling through the hows and lies,
Standing wrong but walking right
Feeling awkward from the height
Of Jonathan.

I’ve always learned my lessons slow;
It took me years to know that wasn’t Jonathan.
I couldn’t really be a man;
I was so much a woman,
And the lying made the living so alone.
So, who was Jonathan?
I really didn’t want to see
That Mildred was a great big part of me.
Remember Mildred?

So Johnny fought and Milly fought;
The battle was a doozy.
I was Jonared…Milathan?
The meshing took a long, long time.
Just what was hers and his and mine?
It kept my shrink’s five kiddies all in shoes,
But I’ve got real good news.
My tailor made the dresses fit
And I still have my cleats and lucky catcher’s mitt.
What you see is what you get.

A trapezoid in a trapezoidal hole;
Finding what I am fits me just fine.
I am a trapezoid in a trapezoidal hole.
My many-angled sides seem strange
To those whose lives are all arranged
In pigeon-holes of round and square.
I found my shape. It’s true and fair.
I’m a woman named Jonathan.
Track Name: Une Chanson Sans Amour
Words and music by Bill Sutton
©1992 Mad Tom Music

Je ne parle pas français.
Ma femm est un pot du thé,
Et mon enfant mange ma clé.
Mettez l’argent dans mon nez.
La chambre et le déjeuner
Sond un saucisse et un drap.
Vous avez un coeur gelée,
Et votre visag est tres laid.

Il y a des chansons pour toutes le saisons,
Il y a des chansons pouir les demeures.
Cette chanson a une autre raison:
Elle donne du trésor au chanteur!

“In the words of the poet:”

I don’t speak French.
My wife is a pot of tea.And my child eats my keys.
Put the money in my nose.
The room and the lunch
Are but a sausage and a sheet.
You have a frozen heart
And your face is really ugly.

There is a song for every season.
There is a song for the home.
This song has another reason:
To make the singer a lot of money.

Il y a des chansons pour toutes le saisons,
Il y a des chansons pouir les demeures.
Cette chanson a une autre raison:
Elle donne du trésor au chanteur!
Elle donne du trésor au chanteur!
Elle donne du trésor au chanteur!
Track Name: Sex After CPAP
Words & music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2008 Mad Tom Music

Like many folks older than forty
I found I’d developed a snore.
At first I was rustling curtains,
But soon I was rattling doors,
And then I was napping at red lights,
And falling asleep at my desk.
Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down all evening,
And not getting any good rest.

So, I went to my doctor who tested me
All wired and watched in my bed.
Results that came back were conclusive,
And this is what my doctor said:
“Brenda, your brain wakes you up on the average
Twenty-six times an hour all night.
That scary because <LONG PAUSE> you stop breathing.
No wonder you’re not feeling right.

“Don’t despair. We will keep you from dying,
Although sadly there isn’t a cure.
We’re hooking you up to a CPAP machine.
We call this new model Allure! (Oooh la la!)This snout mask of rubber and plastic
Hooks on with a thingamajiggy.
The nose hose connects to air pressure
And melds Darth Vadar’s hiss with Miss Piggy. (Ooooh, Kermy, it’s so SEXy!)

“We’ll top off the look with a chin strap
That easily Velcros in place.
Bustiers from Victoria’s Secret
Can’t compete with what’s latched to your face.”The first night that I wore my CPAP
And my sweet lover joined me in bed,
Turned toward me for our goodnight kisses,
And then saw what was strapped to my head. (Aaaagh! Run away, run away, run away!)

Next morning we awoke quite grumpy.
The next week was even more grim.
This CPAP was killing our sex life.
So, now I am saying to him,
“Oh, please hug me out in the hallway,
Or smooch before getting in bed,
For once I’m decked out in my CPAP
All hope for amour will be dead.

“The hoses and mask make it hard, dear,
To hear whispering in my ear,
So, please kiss me out in the hallway.
I’m still buried under this gear.
Oh, tickle my bum in the hallway.
Slip me some tongue in the hallway.Hell, take me right here in the hallway
Before I slip into this gear.
Try some pre-CPAP foreplay, my dear.”
Track Name: Hand In the Cookie Jar
Words and music by Bill Sutton
©2008 Mad Tom Music

He was three years old in his Grandma’s house
And the treasures were something to see.
But the best of all were the kitchen shelves
That he just couldn’t manage to reach.
So, when she heard that chair scrapin’ cross the floor,
Granny crept in the kitchen through the swingin’ door,And with crumbs on his face and his fingers too
He said, “I was gettin’ a cookie for you!” Uh huh.

It doesn’t matter if you’re three or if you’re fifty-four,
It doesn’t matter if you went through the window or door,
It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a photogenic face,
It doesn’t matter if the media is on your case,
It doesn’t matter what you say or what you think you are –
You got stuck with your hand in the cookie jar.
Uh huh.

He’s in the Senate at the witness desk,
His lawyers whispers in his ear.
He leans well into the microphone
To make sure that everybody can hear.
“Now, Senator, you know that I’m an honest man.
I served this country every way I can.
People of the nation, you know it’s true
That I was only gettin’ a cookie for you.
Uh huh.

It doesn’t matter if you’re three or if you’re fifty-four,
It doesn’t matter if you went through the window or door,
It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a photogenic face,
It doesn’t matter if the media is on your case,
It doesn’t matter what you say or what you think you are –
You got stuck with your hand in the cookie jar.
Uh huh.

You’ve got corporations raiding pension funds.
There’s oil profiteers galore.
There’s no-bid contract lobbyists
Making money off-a somebody’s war.
You’ve got politician’s preaching their doom and gloomWhile they’re sneakin’ in the pantry in the other room.
Ain’t it nice to know when the day is through
That somebody’s gettin’ a cookie for you.
Uh huh.

It doesn’t matter if you’re three or if you’re fifty-four,
It doesn’t matter if you went through the window or door,
It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a photogenic face,
It doesn’t matter if the media is on your case,
It doesn’t matter what you say or what you think you are –
You got stuck with your hand in the cookie jar.
Uh huh.
Track Name: Angry Birds
Words & music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2012 Mad Tom Music

There was a time when waits in line
Truly bummed me out.
My appointment’s set at 9am.
“But it’s 10:02!” I’d shout.
Now, happily, you’ll hear no grumbling words
As I whip out phone or tablet
And play Angry Birds!

Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon,
Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon.

See the grunters in their bunkers,
Load and eager birdy and take aim.
Draw the slingshot, fling my bird-shot,
Sending pigeons out to soar and maim.
Hear the boars and piglets snigger
When my feathered missiles hit the roof.
Joyful smashing, mighty crashing,
The inevitable ‘flop’ and POOF!’

My Angry Birds fill the sky
Raining death from on high.
“Vengeance for the quiche!” I cry.
Morendum porcos! Pigs must die, die, die!
Morendum porchs! Pis must die!

Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon,
Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon.

Biddies bungle in the jungle,
In the city streets and desert plains.
Hear a duck quack. Poke a jet pack.
Beat the bangers into mash again.
Raging red birds, bleating blue birds,
Cranky bantam cocks, and hostile tits.
Pounding orc swine in to pork rind,
Pulverizing styes to bacon bits.

My Angry Birds fill the sky
Raining death from on high.
“Vengeance for the quiche!” I cry.
Morendum porcos! Pigs must die, die, die!
Morendum porchs! Pis must die!

Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon,
Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon.

Grating waiting now abating,
I play placidly in checkout lines.
No more uptight at the stop light.
Queues for loos are now a grand ol’ time.
Tails at movies can be groovy,
And those tardy waitresses don’t rile.
Bombing hogs heads into sausage
With a flock of birdies makes me smile!

My Angry Birds fill the sky
Raining death from on high.
“Vengeance for the quiche!” I cry.
Morendum porcos! Pigs must die, die, die!
Morendum porchs! Pis must die!

My Angry Birds fill the sky
Raining death from on high.
“Vengeance for the quiche!” I cry.
Morendum porcos! Pigs must die, die, die!
Morendum porcos! Pigs must die!
Track Name: Serenity
Words & music by Bill Sutton
©2005 Mad Tom Music

It’s fixin’ to be dawn – well, as much of it as we can get
When we’re runnin’ through the black on a ship that’s old as dust.
And there’s somethin’ that I’m needin’ more important than my sleepin’
As I look out of the window at the only thing I trust.

And it ain’t but little time we get to ponder on Serenity
Roaming ’round from moon to moon through a ‘verse so cold and blind.
It’s a mighty humble feelin’ knowin’ just what we are facin’
To remember where we’re goin’ and the folk we left behind.

It conjures to my mind them soldiers stood beside me
Must have thought that they was dyin’ in some struggle to be free.
But the more I set upon it, seems more truthful in the sayin’
That the battle we was fightin’ was the struggle to believe.

And it ain’t but little time we get to ponder on Serenity
Roaming ’round from moon to moon through a ‘verse so cold and blind.
It’s a mighty humble feelin’ knowin’ just what we are facin’
To remember where we’re goin’ and the folk we left behind.

It’s fixin’ to be dawn. Time to get to congregatin’,
Bust these thoughts from out my mind – got me better things to do.
And it might be there’s no answer, but as near as I can make it
Seems the things I can believe in are my freedom and this crew.

And it ain’t but little time we get to ponder on Serenity
Roaming ’round from moon to moon through a ‘verse so cold and blind.
It’s a mighty humble feelin’ knowin’ just what we are facin’
To remember where we’re goin’ and the folk we left behind.
Track Name: Mind, Hands, and Heart
Words and Music by Bill Sutton
©1989 Mad Tom Music

He stands in the morning, looking into the sky.
He sees his life in the sunrise and brings himself to try.
She stands in the sunlight, wondering where to start.
She will find what she needs to find
With her mind and her hands and her heart.

The Lord smiles down upon you.
The Lady will dance the circle ’round (OR Your family and friends have gathered ’round)
That the souls you join together
May never be unbound.
For life is a hidden puzzle.You must search for every part
With your mind, your hands and your heart.
With your mind and your hands and your heart.

They meet in the sunshine as the day has begun,
Singing their hearts in their glances, and dancing the dance never done.
Two hands come together, two lives make a start.
They will know what the wise ones know
In their minds and their hands and their hearts.

The Lord smiles down upon you.
The Lady will dance the circle ’round (OR Your family and friends have gathered ’round)
That the souls you join together
May never be unbound.
For life is a hidden puzzle.You must search for every part
With your mind, your hands and your heart.
With your mind and your hands and your heart.

They stand in the moonlight, looking into the fire,
Neither less than the other, together more than they are.
One is just a beginning; two left alone stand apart,
But two who love can create a love
With their minds and their hands and their hearts.

The Lord smiles down upon you.
The Lady will dance the circle ’round (OR Your family and friends have gathered ’round)
That the souls you join together
May never be unbound.
For life is a hidden puzzle.You must search for every part
With your mind, your hands and your heart.
With your mind and your hands and your heart.
Track Name: Drinking With the Man In the Moon
Words and music by Brenda Sinclair Sutton
©2010 Mad Tom Music

My very first drink with the man in the moon I was seventeen.
Naively, I knocked back his shot and then begged him for more.
Wisely, he taught me to savor the taste,
The fire in my belly, to want without waste.
Nightly, he winked when I wantonly chose to ignore.

That second drink with the man in the moon I was thirty-two.
Life kicked me around, left my heart skinned and scabby and sore.
He nuzzled my cheek and said, “There, there my dear.
The truth I am pouring you won’t want to hear.
Scars never fade, but grow deeper when watered with woe.”

He waxes rounder, wanes, then disappears.
Soon, his crescent smile returns.
When I founder, drowning in my fears,
Moonlight shines on all I’ve learned.

The last time I drink with the man in the moon I’ll be eighty-three.
I’ll bring my own bottle of port wine and he’ll bring blue cheese.
I’ll thank him for everything, ask him to dance,
Kiss his cold face, play one game of chance.
If my mentor wins I will smile as I sink to my knees,
But if I win that wager, I’ll ask him whatever I please.

If ever you drink with the man in the moon, wish him well for me.
Track Name: Vor
Words & music by Bill Sutton
©2001 Mad Tom Music

Our world is our land and the land is our mother
Through long generations we’ve stood by her side.
We are the sons of the men who protected her.
We are the daughters of women who’ve died.

Vor is the name we won from our fathers.
Vor is the love that our mother’s provide.
Vor is the honor we share with our brothers.
Vor is the duty that keeps us alive.

We are the Names, and our Names are the promises
Made to our ancestors when we were born.
Three for the judges and Two for the people,
One when the Fates turn and make a new Lord.

Vor is the name we won from our fathers.
Vor is the love that our mother’s provide.
Vor is the honor we share with our brothers.
Vor is the duty that keeps us alive.

Once we stood firm against disintegration
Of our culture, our honor, our children, our core.
Now that they stand in the light of the Universe,
How do we teach them the meaning of Vor?

Vor is the name we won from our fathers.
Vor is the love that our mother’s provide.
Vor is the honor we share with our brothers.
Vor is the duty that keeps us alive.

Together alone against people and planet,
Each generation encompassing more.
Kosigan, Soisson, Tashpula, and Barra.
Where would we be now if not for the Vor?

Vor is the name we won from our fathers.
Vor is the love that our mother’s provide.
Vor is the honor we share with our brothers.
Vor is the duty that keeps us alive.