Get all 5 Leslie Fish releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Angel with a Sword, Sea of Dreams, Not the Way to Get Laid, Avalon is Risen (The Retro Filk Mix), and Avalon is Risen.
1. |
Harvester
02:29
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Find me a sword with a pacifist's soul. Harvester! Harvester!
Making peace while the ages roll. So many years to roam.
From the northland ice to the jungle's heat,
He fought and killed, never knew defeat,
But he was happier cutting wheat. Harvester's come home.
He was forged by a farmer's son. Harvester! Harvester!
Made from a plowshare and a gun. So many years to roam.
An honest tool in the soldier's hand,
He did his job at the war's demand.
But his only cause was to save his land. Harvester's come home.
He killed as clean as a butcher's blade. Harvester! Harvester!
A skilled workman at the slicing trade. So many years to roam.
When the war was won and the treaties sealed,
The sword went home to a better yield,
Reaping crops in a poor man's field. Harvester's come home.
War and peace roll 'round the years. Harvester! Harvester!
Killing men or butchering steers. So many years to roam.
He'd much rather cut corn than men,
Farming now as he did then.
Do not feed him on war again. Harvester's come home.
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2. |
Blood and Black Leather
02:09
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Blood doesn't show on black leather. Rarely does road-rash get through.
When facing long years of bad weather, nothing but leather will do.
Consider the shape of the future, the lessons we've caught from the past.
Put on chain-mail and black leather if you want clothing to last.
No-one will be wearing linen. Nylon will no more be made.
Who will have time for the spinnin'? What will be left out of trade?
But so long as anything's living to strip of its hide and its hair,
If you can put up with leather you'll always have something to wear.
Kevlar makes bulletproof armor, but heavy and hotter than hell.
Metal needs thick padding under, and it's hot and heavy as well.
Leather may not turn a bullet, but it's light and it's flexible too.
For running or fighting or hiding, nothing but leather will do.
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3. |
Born Again
03:53
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Mary Margaret hated life. She hid from trouble and pain and strife.
When she died of a heart-attack no human body would take her back.
(Chorus):
Born again! Born again! We're all condemned to be born again,
Not on any celestial plane, but right back here with the same old pain.
She came back as a butterfly, with no thought but to eat and fly,
'Til she died of a spider's kiss, and thought: "There has to be more than this."
This time Mary was born a cat. She learned to cuddle and play and rat.
She died old with a happy purr, but thought there ought to be more to her.
Next time, human, she had more sense. She taught classes in self-defense
'Til the cops came to shut her down. She took out ten in the final round.
This time she was an energy-cloud. She ringed the Earth in a hopeful shroud
And preached wherever the currents curled, 'til revolution swept the world.
Then a voice told her: "You've learned well. You cleaned the Earth of one piece of hell,
So choose the form you prefer to take." She said: "I'm human, for heaven's sake!"
Hell and heaven are here on Earth. Every death is another birth.
The world we get is the world we make, so save the Earth for your own sake.
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4. |
Time Slip
02:21
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Swing into battle; it's always the same
I've gone crazy for the love of this game
I've changed my history, my century, my name
Time's going under for the sake of the game.
Stroll through the field with a sword and a crown
The walls of present time are tumbling down.
Stand up with vikings, with kings and corsairs
The past is open and the future is theirs.
Who dreams of honor or faith anymore?
Come to the battlefield and open the door.
The dead and wounded stand up to complain
Go to Valkyrie Hall and walk back again.
Time is a tyrant. Tear down the cage
Rebuild the future as a composite age:
Laptop computer; chain mail and sword;
Gas-powered dragons; calling everyone 'lord.'
Swing into battle; it's always the same
I've gone crazy for the love of this game
I've changed my history, my century, my name
Time's going under for the love of the game
Time's going under for the sake of the game.
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5. |
Tack My Name
02:03
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I hear the astronomers are raising money peddling real-estate light-years far.
Send in cash, they'll change the registry: tack your name on a distant star.
Choose me a star somewhere in the mid-range: not too dim and not too bright,
One with planets of some ecology. Let my name give someone light.
Years from now when I'm long underground, some explorer will come and see
Lots of land for pioneer settlers under a sun named after me.
Send me your refugees, oddballs, malcontents, those that governments throw away.
They'll soon grow to be poets and singers with my namesake to light their way.
Maybe my ghost will wander among them, doing my share to keep them free.
There'll be no tyrants, slaves or go-alongs under a sun named after me!
I hear the astronomers are peddling star-names. Tell me who and where they are.
I won't need an Earthly monument with my name on a rising star.
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6. |
Route 40
06:31
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Chorus
Come and ride the road that links the cities of the sun:
It's the Tucumcari‑Albuquerque‑Flagstaff‑Phoenix Run.
Bad times came and bad times went and left us here alive;
Desert folks have histories of learning to survive.
The troubles took the cities, and the rich farmlands beside,
But they skipped our land as barren waste, so here we all abide.
We have no oil worth digging for, just wide jojoba plains.
The sun is like a hammer here, and twice a year it rains.
But we know where the waters hide, and where the stock can feed
So we survived and prospered while the old world died of greed.
The pack trains and the wagons bring the goods down to the road.
We dicker over prices, then we convoy up and load.
Now, some of us like steam wheels, and some drive alcohol,
But when it comes to weaponry, we've no arguments at all.
We drive out of the city, and the desert floor unrolls.
We meet the road repair crew, and we pay them out their tolls.
We swap the news and gossip through the CB on our way,
And that's the only taxes that we're ever gonna pay.
Bless the cool of nighttime, though it makes the driving slow,
The heatscopes warn of trouble long before the gangs can show.
A couple rounds of rockets makes the bandits go away,
And that's the last of trouble till the coming of the day.
The sun comes up in banners and the heat comes down like lead.
Our heatscopes now are useless, and there's trouble up ahead...
Some gang has set a roadtrap; do we fight or do we pay?
Hell, fire the big recoilless ‑‑ we ain't payin' tax today!
We come into Albuquerque with our armor full of holes.
But we brought all our cargo safe, and the market street unrolls.
We'll take our pay in car repairs, more ammo, and more shells,
For the next stretch goes to Flagstaff, and that's a dozen hells!
So now we've got a passenger‑‑some kind of preacher man.
Who sneers at our crude violence, and boasts about his plan
To bring back laws and government, and all that whole shebang.
Oh, put him on the tail‑gun quick; here comes another gang!
We stagger into Flagstaff late, wounded, scarred, and racked.
We've fought three gangs since morning, but our cargo's still intact.
Our passenger is leaving now; I guess he's realized
That freedom's wild and wooly; we don't want it civilized.
So pour the drinks, you merchants, for the heroes of the road.
We wouldn't swap our rolling lives for all the goods we've towed.
So patch our wounds and armor, and make our ammo true....
For the next stretch goes to Phoenix, and that's a mother, too
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7. |
Rhododendron Honey
03:27
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What do we do for our freedom, oh, what do we do for our corn?
Poor Big Boss Jones and his bully boys came here last Sunday morn.
He marched right into the village square and grabbed everybody in sight
And made a big speech about how he'd come to set this country right.
He said that he'd come to save us all from living in anarchy.
He'd give us a government and laws again, the way it used to be.
He swore he'd make this country great like it was before the war,
And all that he wanted was half our crops like taxes was before.
When he was finished, he took his boys and went to the meeting hall
And chased out everybody left in sight and moved in one and all.
So we strolled over to the teacher's house and held town meeting there
To talk about what we were gonna do, just how and when and where.
Early next morning the old folks come, all smiling to beat the band.
They told Boss Jones they were glad he's here, and they're proud to shake his hand.
They fawned on him and his bully boys and flattered 'em left and right
And promised a big feast in their honor in the meeting hall that night.
That evening everyone in town showed up, all bringing the food and beer.
Boss Jones, he sat at the head of the table, and all his boys sat near.
Oh, they ate and drank and bragged no end about what they were gonna do
While they scarfed up rhododendron honey and amanita stew.
Now, we'd been careful of what we ate, so we didn't take no harm,
But the Boss and his bully boys all keeled over while the coffee still was warm.
We dragged 'em down to the old mine shaft that was dug before the war
And dropped 'em down there with all the others who'd tried that trick before.
Yes, we remember the world that was and the way that it used to be,
And we'd just rather be left alone; we're used to being free.
Don't want no more of laws or bosses, don't want no government here.
I hope they don't come again too soon... they've tried three times this year.
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8. |
The Discards
03:37
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Look on the horizon.
What do my eyes behold?
Is that a herd of bison
Or a convoy rolling bold?
Could that be my old master
And all his princely crew,
Who ran from the disaster
That they put us peasants through,
They put us peasants through?
Who else would roll so proudly
Across this blasted land?
Who else would bitch so loudly
On every channel band?
Now do they think that no one
Could stay out here alive,
Or did they think us low ones
Were too stupid to survive,
Too stupid to survive?
Why did they leave their bunkers
They built so long ago?
Did they come forth to conquer,
Or did their food run low?
Their wheels so sleek and bossy,
All stuffed with high‑tech gear,
No longer look so glossy
After driving long out here,
Driving long out here.
For what looks good in planning
May not be built to last.
Tech toys wore out with manning.
Replacements went out fast.
But salesman's smart assurance
Won't hold you up in hell.
Survival means endurance,
And we've learned that lesson well,
We've learned that lesson well.
For when they fled the city
And left us to our fate,
No panic and no pity,
Nor did we stand and wait,
But jumped up and, unguarded,
We looted for our tools.
We may have been discarded,
But that didn't make us fools,
That didn't make us fools.
So come on, dear old master,
And see what's waiting here.
Our wheels can roll the faster
For lack of fragile gear.
We've stripped down to essentials
Of armor, wheels, and gun.
Don't send me your credentials;
This is no computer run,
No computer run.
No radar for your jamming,
No lasers to deflect.
Just armor made for ramming
And bullets worth respect.
No comps for your misquoting,
No optics to distrust.
Your chips are overloading,
And your laser eats my dust,
Your laser eats my dust.
Now one of you is burning.
Another's punctured well.
A third is overturning.
A fourth is blown to hell.
The fifth is losing power.
The sixth has lost a wheel.
This fate won't last the hour.
Tell me, master, will you deal,
Master, will you deal?
I'll leave you live and walking...
As much as you left me!
Surrender or quit talking;
Choose death or poverty.
Ah, you're running like the others!
My guns come up to line!
Your friends can face my brothers,
Master, your sweet ass is mine,
Your sweet ass is mine.
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9. |
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Old king plague is dead
The smallpox plague is dead
No more children dying hard
No more cripples living scarred
With the marks of the devil's kiss
We still may die of other things, but we will not die of this
Raise your glasses high
For all who will not die
To all the doctors, nurses too
And all the lab technicians who
Drove it into the ground
If the whole UN does nothing else, it cut this terror down
But scarce the headlines said
The ancient plague was dead
They were filled with weapons new
Toxic waste and Herpes too
And the AIDS scare coming on
Ten new plagues will take its place but at least this one is gone
Population soars
Checked with monstrous wars
Preachers rant at birth control
Screw the body, save the soul
Bring new deaths off the shelves
And say to Nature, "Mother, please, we'd rather do it ourselves"
Old king plague is dead
The smallpox plague is dead
No more children dying hard
No more cripples living scarred
With the marks of the devils kiss
We still may die of other things, but we will not die of this
Oh no!
We still may die of other things, but we will not die of this!
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10. |
Serious Steel
04:50
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Well the bombs went up and the Crunch came down
In the middle of the Pennsic War
It left us stranded in Cooper's Field,
Ten thousand souls or more.
We had nothing with us but what we'd brought:
Our cars and camping gear,
And our arms and armor, tools and skills
We'd worked on all that year.
Chorus:
So, dress your ranks! Lift your pikes!
Tight as the teeth of a comb!
Rattling, clanking, down the road,
The war is going home!
So a truce was called and a council held
And we argued all that night.
Then we all set off in a caravan
By the early morning light.
We had tipped our arrows and pikes with steel,
And were armored, every one.
Our swords and bows hung ready to hand,
For the time of rattan was done.
The very first town that we came to,
We stopped for fuel and food.
The gasman said he had none to sell;
The cops were worse than rude.
They drew their guns. We drew our bows.
They fired. We won the day
For their backup radios all were dead
And shortly so were they.
The very next town that we came to
They had no fuel at all.
The garage man said he could change our cars
To run on alcohol.
But five thousand cars would take as long
As to grow a crop of grain.
So, we made a deal and moved on out
In a horse‑drawn wagon train.
The very third town that we came to,
The rulers had gone mad.
The cops tried to enslave us all
And steal what all we had.
Our armor proved half‑bullet proof,
Our weapons worked as well.
The townsfolk afterwards thanked us all
For freeing them from Hell.
So, town‑by‑town, we worked our way
Just to take our people home.
The legends that we left behind,
It seemed would rival Rome.
For now the folk come seeking us
To take their troubles on.
To be their teachers and champions
In a world where law is gone.
How can we not take up the steel,
For to serve our people's need?
How can we leave our land to fall
To any bandit's greed?
We have the skills to save our folk
From whatever evil thrives,
Admit the truth: this is the chance
We've hoped for all our lives!
So, dress your ranks! Lift your pikes!
Tight as the teeth of a comb!
Rattling, clanking, down the road,
Dressed in leather and steel and woad,
All too aware of history's load,
The war is going home.
The war is coming home!
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11. |
Cripples’ Shield-Wall
04:26
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Consider the plight of the one‑legged knight
As he braces his crutch with his shield
He'll stand still and wait 'til you come for the bait
Then you'll find that the bastard won't yield!
Do you knock his one leg down, there's still no relief
He'll crawl down the field with his sword in his teeth
And the reach of his sword‑arm defies all belief
When he fights in the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
Beware the old dame who's arthritic and lame
So knee‑sprung she barely can stand
For her hands and her eye are still steady and spry
She's the best crossbow shot in the land!
With a repeating crossbow and war‑arrow blade
She can pierce any armor that's ever been made
Be glad she's not drawn to the highwayman's trade!
She just fights in the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
No profit you'll find from the knight who is blind
He can hear you twelve paces away
He'll listen off‑hand 'til he's sure where you stand
Then his bill‑hook reaps far more then hay!
He can fight in the forest, the river, the plain
With his hearing unhampered by dark, fog or rain
He must know his ground, but he'll sure bring you pain
As he fights in the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
Pray do not go near the knight who can't hear
Though he can't tell command‑calls at all
He reads signs from his friends, and his post he defends
With a lightning fast seven-foot maul!
They say when it's whirling, it raises a breeze
And the head on its chain has been known to break trees
So when he starts swinging, the prudent man flees
Where he fights in the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
Watch out in the fight for the cripple‑armed knight
Whose hand can't swing up‑‑only down
For he'll watch through the dance 'til he spies a good chance
Then his downstroke will cost you your crown!
His shield‑arm will raise up his sword‑arm and then
He'll watch for his chance with his downstroke again
You know that he'll strike‑‑but you never know when
And he fights in the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
Beware, I implore, all you masters of war
Who prefer to draft healthy young boys
For the blind and the lame can be good at this game
When well placed, defending the toys
They've learned their art well, and they strike hard and true
If they've something to prove, then they'll prove it on you!
The last line on Earth that you'd want to drive through
You can swear is the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
Beware of the Cripples' Shield‑Wall!
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12. |
Valhalla
05:20
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Sigurd was an Odin-man, the last of Pagan-kind,
For Churchmen ruled the countryside and all men they could find.
Yet Sigurd prayed to Odin-god with heart and soul and mind
In hope that he would reach Valhalla.
Sigurd died in battle, crying "Odin!" to the last.
beyond the reach of Churchmens' Heaven his soul speeded past.
But when he reached the Bifrost Bridge he found the gates barred fast.
Alas, no entry to Valhalla!
Odin's voice called to him then: "The gate I'll not unbar,
For we are under siege. With Churchmen's Heaven we're at war,
Yet I shall keep my pledge to you. Though you must wander far
Still I shall bring you to Valhalla."
The Winds of Time took Sigurd then, and whipped him down the years.
They burned away his memories of love and hope and fears,
And left him as a new-born babe whose foremost cry and tears
Were for lost promise of Valhalla.
This age and name fit ill on him. He grew to man's estate
A thoughtful, bookish, lonely lad who felt betrayed by fate,
Who dreamed and read and oft-regretted he was born too late
For the age of Odin and Valhalla.
He came upon Anachronists who kept the ancient skills.
Gladly did he join with them, and practiced with a will,
For he felt an old hope stirring as he persisted still:
A long step closer to Valhalla.
He called himself "Lord Sigurd" now. He dressed in black bear skin.
He hastened through his duties to his mundane work and kin,
For in the weekend combat he could feel the veil wear thin
'Til it seemed he could almost reach Valhalla
In time he won a Baron's rank. The folk bowed down before.
At length a Herald rose and spake: "Milord, you could do more.
Pray bring your skills with us this year, out to the eastern War.
It's the next best thing to old Valhalla.
So Sigurd went to war that year, and stared at what he found:
The ancient-garbed and armored folk, the clanging battleground,
The market-place, the mead-halls, and the campsite sprawling 'round --
And he felt time shift him to Valhalla.
For lo, the warriors battled there so merrily all day,
And maidens resurrected every one the strokes would slay,
Then at the mead-hall they would feast and sing the night away --
Oh, it fit all descriptions of Valhalla!
'Twas true it wasn't perfect; there was War but once a year,
With lesser revels once a month in kingdoms far and near,
And all the dreary lesser days, the Mundane world was here --
But it was close enough to call Valhalla.
Be careful of what paradise you deal
What hope you make other dreamers feel
For if too many hear it
they will struggle to draw near it
And in the search they just might make it real!
So every War and revel, go to the feasting-hall
And there you'll find a Viking-lord named Sigurd standing tall
and giving thanks to Odin for the pledge kept afterall
Singing, "Yo ho, Welcome to Valhalla!"
For we have made our own Valhalla
For we are the builders of Valhalla
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13. |
Black Canyon Road
03:54
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Come ride with me darling. Leave the city behind
'Til the wild desert mountain is all we can find.
Have drink from my old canteen, help me ease my spirit's load.
Remember our first ride this way, up Black Canyon Road.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
Remember our first time, up Black Canyon Road.
There was me, Sue and Johnny. We'd just met you that day.
We left the club early, 'cause you wanted to play.
We thought we were a wild crowd, with our beer and pills and boo,
But we never touched the harder stuff 'til you teased us to.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
You were temptation on Black Canyon Road.
That's how it started. We partied too far.
You led us onward, like a jack-lighting star.
We knew there'd be price-tag, but not how it'd be paid
'Til Sue and Johnny got shot down in a drug-busters' raid.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
Led to destruction on Black Canyon Road.
I found Johnny dying. I got his last word,
Then I searched the house down to prove wrong what I'd heard.
I hated to believe him, that you'd planned this from the start,
But what I found in the toilet-tank decided my part.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
You did your job out on Black Canyon Road.
Now you lie so heavy as I drag you outside,
To the edge of the canyon and over the side,
And when they find your body I know just what they'll think,
Because all you planted in my house I put in your drink.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
Die for betrayal on Black Canyon Road.
Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon Road,
Die as you lived out on Black Canyon Road.
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14. |
The Arizona Sword
05:37
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“Blacksmith, make a sword for me, such as none did ever see,
For ancient symbols of majesty have power in troubled times.
Blacksmith, make me a magic sword, one that will make me the valley’s lord
Whom folk will hail with one accord to save them from their crimes.
Seeing he would not be deterred, the blacksmith took him at his word
And pondered long on what he’d heard about this would-be lord.
He pumped the fire and he made his start, melted iron in the fire’s heart,
But he named the steel with an older art the Arizona Sword.
He chanted words to the blazing mix, of ancient Red Men’s and White Men’s tricks
To draw a spirit, and purpose fix in what the blade would feel:
The iron laws from Nature’s hand, the ruthless will of the desert land,
The freedom no one can command – and cast that thought in steel.
And when the blacksmith’s work was done, the new sword gleamed like the setting sun.
All down the blade did the old runes run, a warning plain to see.
The steel was grained like the finest wood. A full yard long and more it stood.
The runes read: “I serve but the good of life and liberty.”
Near the hilt, set in copper wire, a phoenix rose up from the pyre.
A copper star within the fire rayed out copper cords.
The grip was like a saguaro made that clasped a moon in quartz and jade.
In truth, like to no other blade was the Arizona Sword.
“Blacksmith, well have ye served my cause. This shall aid me to make the laws.
Hmmm, the guards are shaped like cougar’s paws; in truth, like none I’ve seen.
The price is steep, but I shall not carp. She’ll sing more praise than a minstrel’s harp.
Ye gods, that blade is razor-sharp! ...For a symbol, very keen.”
“And cheap she'll be if I strike ye dead!” The blacksmith promptly turned and fled.
The lordling laughed and shrugged instead, and went out to meet his horde.
He cried out: “This is the day foretold. Just one hand now this land shall hold,
For in this sign will I rule. Behold, the Arizona Sword.”
“No more argument shall we find, but all hereafter shall be inclined
To just one purpose and just one mind. Thus do I mean to do.
Now go ye forth, and take the land.” The sword heard well his first command.
She lunged and twisted in his hand, and fell, and ran him through.
They say the sword vanished clean away, for none has heard of it since that day,
But seek it wisely, and find ye may. Take care, who would be lord.
Beware, ye tyrant! Beware, ye fool! For who is the master and who the tool?
Ye may well serve, but ye shall not rule the Arizona Sword
credits
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15. |
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Sad news! Sad news on the front page is spread:
First Fandom has thinned; the Good Doctor is dead.
More than four hundred books mark out his path,
From history to robots, Shakespeare to high math.
Whatever mind hungers can find feasting here:
A wealth of bright thought spread from year upon year.
But now the wind stills and the pattern sets fast.
No more now of changes; he's written his last.
The path sets in stone from the dry fountain-head.
Foundation ends here, for the Doctor is dead.
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16. |
Ship of Stone
04:59
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Once there was a Ship of Stone that orbited a mighty star,
And from it flew the First Ship’s crew whose children we all are.
And no matter how long we’ve drawn our track, still, over our shoulder, looking back
Through the hydrogen’s hiss and the methane’s moan,
Past the polymer clouds of the Dead Stars’ shrouds,
All our roads run back to the Ship of Stone.
There the First Crew all were made, and wakened from unknowing sleep
By the boundless sight of Heaven’s height and the fires on the Deep.
And no matter how strange the forms we wear, how warped and wild, how rich and rare,
How changed we’ve made the seed we’ve sown,
We are blood of those who, singing, rose
From the body of the Ship of Stone.
And there our own ships’ frames were formed to grow blue-glowing wings,
And spread them wide to the farthest tide where the last lone beacon sings.
And no matter how tight the net they knot of our web where the Wheel of Light is caught,
How strange and lost, how grand they’ve grown,
They, too, desire all Heaven’s fire,
Our companions since the Ship of Stone.
Once there was a Ship of Stone, clear-domed, broad-hulled and clean,
Where the air shone blue, through whose holds birds flew,
Whose decks were growing green.
And no matter how odd these things may seem, as madly mazed as shards of dream,
They are not a dream that you dream alone.
All ships, all men, are of one kin.
We shall not forget the Ship of Stone.
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17. |
Hope Eyrie
04:38
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Worlds grow old and suns grow cold
And death we never can doubt.
Time's cold wind, wailing down the past,
Reminds us that all flesh is grass
And history's lamps blow out.
But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
Time won't drive us down to dust again.
Cycles turn while the far stars burn,
And people and planets age.
Life's crown passes to younger lands,
Time brushes dust of hope from his hands
And turns another page.
But the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
Time won't drive us down to dust again.
But we who feel the weight of the wheel
When winter falls over our world
Can hope for tomorrow and raise our eyes
To a silver moon in the opened skies
And a single flag unfurled.
For the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
Time won't drive us down to dust again.
We know well what Life can tell:
If you would not perish, then grow.
And today our fragile flesh and steel
Have laid our hands on a vaster wheel
With all of the stars to know
That the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
Time won't drive us down to dust again.
From all who tried out of history's tide,
Salute for the team that won.
And the old Earth smiles at her children's reach,
The wave that carried us up the beach
To reach for the shining sun.
For the Eagle has landed; tell your children when.
Time won't drive us down to dust again.
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18. |
Few Days
03:39
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I can't stay in these diggings long,
Few days, few days,
I can't stay in these diggings long,
And I am going home.
I'll peg my ship on this campground,
Few days, few days,
To give my demons one more round,
And I am going home.
From sun to sun, I'm made to tread,
Few days, few days,
The open sky my only bed,
And I am going home.
How little did my mother dream,
Few days, few days,
That I would sail on time's long stream,
And I am going home.
The world I knew is ages gone,
Few days, few days,
And I must keep on keeping on,
And I am going home.
I can't stay in these diggings long,
Few days, few days,
I can't stay in these diggings long,
And I am going home.
All others to their loves may cling,
Few days, few days,
But I must wander, learn, and sing,
And I am going home.
There is no world can hold me long,
Few days, few days,
Till every world has heard my song,
And I am going home.
The gods who made those stars my track,
Few days, few days,
Have laid their burden on my back,
And I am going home.
Of all the worlds and times I know,
Few days, few days,
I'll sing the truth before I go,
And I am going home.
My sky is bound by spinning stars,
Few days, few days,
The cruelest prison has no bars,
And I am going home.
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Leslie Fish Phoenix, Arizona
If there's one name that's practically synonymous with filk (Science Fiction folk music), it's Leslie Fish. Leslie has written literally hundreds of songs covering almost every subject, from the space program ("Hope Eyrie"), to Star Trek ("Banned From Argo") to urban life, history, and space fantasy ("Carmen Miranda's Ghost"). ... more
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