Harmonicahelps.….. from a contented Busker.

    It’s a holiday time And I scrambled for sand In a place where Atlantic she rolls And I tripped down the street To a place where times meet One of those seamen’s watering holes. It was all dark inside Where the spent went to hide And to think of the fishing afore. To the Banks they would sail And would risk fearsome gale Just to haul in the codfish once more. I got used to the dark And took seat next his mark Buying him yet another “for health”. And his sticky eyes glazed At the treasured salt days When he sported in freer man’s wealth. There were ports of glad call And the shipmates were all For adventure and let’s shake this Town. And some slept in the clink And the cause was just drink Thought to make the hard pills go down. He had missed the Wife’s death And the kids both had left Knowing Dad had no Land-farer’s boots. Seeking grand city lights Hectic days, liquid nights Just like orphans without any roots. It was four o’clock now And I couldn’t see how My queer q...

  Jessy Dixon and Gaither Bunch Look at that crowd...Buddy Greene, Janet Paschal, Larnelle Harris, Wintley Phipps, Russ Taff, David Phelps. Trumpets, keyboard, harmonica. All in agreement, sweetly tuned. A Passing   I heard late  about her husband's passing wrote a letter best as I could.  spoke of happy times in summer campfires, chapel bell midst wood. she sang well, and he would preach the Gospel. kids could catch the gist of what he meant. (Matthew 25) Toastmaster, as I knew him through the seasons helped me much and to my journey lent. But he died, his  passage surely skyward. and with Joyful End. Grand Reunion comes of that he taught so clearly. and the widow kept my simple letter shown to friends. (Evelyn and John Halcrow...London YMCA) I