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WATERS OF MARCH
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope
And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart
The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone
A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow
The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night
A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud
Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone
A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe
A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night
A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain
A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart
A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road
A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.
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MASTER OF SONG
(And it is a long one!)
A streak, a stroke,
It's the skill of the rhyme.
It's the blush of a love,
Had a wonderful time!
It's an echo of old,
And it's loud, it's the drum,
It's a bang, it's a roll;
It's a pluck, it's a strum.
The page when it turns,
A break in the line,
The pause in the verse,
A tale by design.
The shake of the head,
A skip, a dance,
A look, a wink,
It is modern romance.
It's the quickening pulse,
It's the beat of the bass,
It's a dash, it's a walk
It's a shot, it's a pace.
And this song from Brazil
From A. Carlos Jobim,
It's a version I made,
A tribute to him.
The stress, the shriek,
The gang and the band,
The noise of the crowd,
A splendid hand.
A nod, a nix,
A shuffling of tone,
A fifth, a flight,
The flow of a drone.
The pitch of the play,
The sway of the swing,
The fiddle in the suite,
It's a bow, it's a string.
A puff, a poof,
A scale, a note,
A strength, a stint,
The sound from the throat.
A grandness of ninths
In the lone afterglow;
The stand of the tune
In the heart of the show.
The gong, the gasp,
A riff, a lick,
It's a prank, it's a prod,
It's the truth, it's the kick!
The thrust of the steel,
The fire in me,
And the plan that I forged,
And the hole and the key.
Alive, again,
The push, the pound,
The depth, the draft,
The reason of sound.
And this work that we like
From A. Carlos Jobim
It's a version I wrote,
A tribute to him.
A tenth, a track,
It's the fun of the Glee;
It's the soft of a hush,
It's a fine melody.
A friend, a youth
It is full, it is whole,
It's a dent in your heart;
Soothed a spark in your soul.
A blast, a joy,
It's hot, a hit,
Insane and odd,
A lusty dose of wit.
A wheel, a rhythm,
A stick, a snare,
A flash, a flutter,
A blast, a blare.
The sign on the nail,
A bridge and a fret,
In the annals of life
That favorite duet!
And this ditty I love
From A. Carlos Jobim,
It's a version I made,
A tribute to him.
A halt, a rest,
The end of the score,
The hunt of a deal,
A piece I adore.
A sonnet of sense,
A splash, an air,
A snatch, a snap,
It's the pick of the pair!
Yes, this tune from Brazil
From A. Carlos Jobim,
It's a version I wrote,
A tribute to him.
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