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Ownership of these lyrics

Except for those songs labeled as "Traditional" these songs belong to me. They are my property and I own them. You may print out a copy for each member of your family who wants to sing along. But you may not hand them out at the mall, sing them in a public place, record them on any media and sell or give them away or any other means of distribution. Some people think that it's ok if you don't make money on it. Suppose you stole a car and gave it to a stranger or a friend. You wouldn't be making any money on it but IT WOULD STILL BE STEALING! If you don't want to be a thief then don't rip me off. In the case of those traditional songs, they belong to all of us so help your self.

Thank you

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Don't Attack My Heart.

(Max Robinson)
March 24, 2000.

Everybody says you're a hard lovin' woman.
You pick up a guy and spin him around
After you've amused yourself with him for a while
You break his hart and throw him down.

Chorus:

So honey don't pull my chain
Don't say I'm number one on your chart
Please don't mess with my mind
And DON'T ATTACK MY HEART.

Some men say you're a lot of fun
That lovin' you is worth the fall
But I don't want to end up
As another picture on your wall.

Chorus

Someday you'll really fall in love
And you'll want him to marry you
A bunch of broken hearted boys
Will cheer when you get paid what's due.

Chorus

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Turn It Off and Listen.

(Max Robinson)
August 25, 1996.

Chorus:

Turn it off and listen to the

sound of God's creation
Shut down those noisy motors that
are used for recreation
There's music in your own back yard
it comes through sweet and clear
If you'll turn off your boom box so
the rest of us can hear.

In spring the sound of peepers floats
across the field at night
When wind and rain come gently it's
a sensual delight
The birds join in the spring time choir
they sing the whole day long
Shut off your high technology
and listen to the song.

Chorus

The summer adds new voices to

the chorus of the spring
The crickets and cicadas have
their song to sing
Hearing nature's music is
restoring to the soul
But no one listens any more
they're chasing the next goal.

Chorus

When autumn comes around the silence

has a great reward
It's so quiet you can hear your self
believing in the Lord
The golden leaves are falling rein
drops hear them hit the ground
Turn off your radio, stand still
and listen to the sound.

Chorus

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A Rainbow for Morgan.

(Max Robinson)
Idea, Nov. 30, 1996.
Written, January 3, 1997.
Revised July 12, 1998.

One day in midsummer the weather was clear
And no one imagined that danger was near
Young Morgan Veoley went outside to play
A strange man picked her up and took her away.

Chorus:

Second star to the right and straight on to morning
There is a safe place kids can play
Where all wishes come true

and there's no danger warning
A rainbow for Morgan with each brand new day.

The law men searched for her while everyone prayed
Days grew into weeks and hope started to fade.
News came over TV that caused quite a stir
They'd found a dead girl they're not sure it's her.

The worst is the waiting is it yes or no?
They can't rush the testing it has to go slow.
At last the announcement "It's Morgan it's true"
And God only knows what that poor child went through.

Chorus

The small grave-side service the family shares
Balloons fly away with everyone's prayers
As Morgan's soul rides the balloons upon high
A rainbow appears in a cloudless blue sky.

Chorus

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A Place to Play.

(Max Robinson)
December 5, 1992.
Revised Feb. 24, 1995.
Revised Oct. 4, 1997.
Revised Jan. 31, 1999.
Revised Aug. 10, 2000.
Revised Oct. 1, 2001.

A wind break is a row of trees
you find on many farms
In winter time it sheltered us
from winds that flung their arms
The summer turned that spot into
a secret hideaway.
When I was small it was
the perfect place to play.

That wind-break was a spaceship

I would fly to distant worlds
To help a slave rebellion and
I always got the girl
Or sometimes I would pilot
a one-man submarine
To the bottom of the sea
to dance with a mermaid queen.

The corn field was a place where I

could hide and not be found
In that field all I could see
was corn, blue sky and ground
Lying on warm soil I did not know
what such peace was worth
I felt as if I was the only
human on this earth

On cloudless days the heavens were

so blue it hurt my eyes
On other days the cloud like dragons
chased across the skies
Inside my private world
my dreams went on and on
Not knowing in a few short years
the wonder would be gone.

Hard times forced us to sell the farm

when I was only ten
Soon I was to learn the phrase
"you can't go home again"
The buyers didn't like our home
and so they tore it down
Then built themselves a house you
might see in any town

They do not love the land the way

my ancestors did
There's no place left on that farm
to entertain a kid
The places where I used to play
are just a memory
The only way I can go back
is in my reverie.

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He Plowed His Fields.

(Max Robinson)
March 4, 1994.
Revised September 1997.
Formerly "Within My Memory".
Revised January 5, 1999.

My father spent his life in toil
To scratch a living from the unforgiving soil
Had little schooling but was nobody's fool
He had a wisdom they can't teach in school.

Chorus:

He plowed his fields
Then sowed his seed
And kept us well, my brothers, Mom and me
He always answered every question patiently
Though he is gone he lives within my memory.

He looked forward happily to the coming day
He never worried, that was his way
We lived in poverty and pleasures were few
Yet somehow he always saw us through.

Chorus

He had a thousand dreams that would not come true
Wishing for a change that was overdue
We'd find better times coming 'round our door
I pray his dreams are fulfilled on Heaven's shore.

Chorus

Coda:

He's living on and dreaming still
Deep down inside of me.

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Just a Cowboy
Passing Through.

(Max Robinson).
October 11, 1998.

One day he road in alone
Not much more than skin and bones
Said he'd pay for chow with work
Not complain and never shirk
The boss said "Give him lots of food
And get some work out of this dude."
After chuck on that first night
We spun yarns by the firelight
He said "I can't stay long with you
I'm JUST A COWBOY PASSING THROUGH."

One night along the Chism trail
A storm blew in with wind and hail
The cattle stampede shook the ground
We tried our best to head them 'round
He road beside me through that hell
My horse spooked and I nearly fell
I thought this was my last drive
He caught the rains and save my life
I'm the one that's left to mourn
He fell among those hoofs and horns.

We dug his grave in gray of dawn
And said a prayer to send him on
His way to Heaven. Then the boss
Carved out a simple wooden cross
These few words bade our friend adieu
He's JUST A COWBOY PASSING THROUGH."
It's understood that life is short
Soon we'll stand in Heaven's court
Whether poor or well to do
We're all just cowboys passing through.

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Joe's Tree.

(Max Robinson)
September 19, 1993.
Revised Oct. 15, 1994.
Revised June 2, 1997.
Revised Dec. 30, 1999.

We were following a truck on the highway;
It was carrying the bones of an ancient tree.
A storm had blown that tree down yesterday;
For years it had watched over one family.

It was planted by a father one bright Kentucky morn,
And on that fine spring morning his son Joe was born
Proud papa would sit on the porch with young Joe on his nee
And say to him, "You know, my son, that is your tree."

The boy and the tree grew up together
Joe guarded it as he watched it grow
With his help it survived Kentucky weather
Through the years it seemed the tree was watching over Joe.

When he married at age twenty-two his dad gave him the farm;
He sat underneath the tree with Jenny in his arms.
The doctor gave them news that twins were on the way
She had a son and daughter on the thirty-first of May.

The tree stretched its branches over Joe's family
Like a guardian angel watching over all
Protecting them from every little tragedy,
Now in full maturity more than seventy feet tall.

Joe made a swing for his grandchildren tied to a stout limb;
It was a happy time when they'd come to visit him.
Yet another generation played on that swing
When Joe's grandkids brought their own kids and came a-visiting.

The tree didn't fall the same day Joe died,
Though in years to come people may remember otherwise.
The youngest great grandchild was sure it cried;
Winter's wind through it's branches breathed mournful sighs.

Jenny moved away to town to live her last years out;
The house stood empty now, only ghosts walked about.
One day there was a monster storm with lightning, rain and wind
That was how Joe's mighty tree met its final end.

Developers bought the land where the house sat;
They knocked down everything in sight to build their little boxes.
Neither Joe nor his tree lived to see that
Three sure things in this world are development, death and taxes.

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Acting Our Age.

(Max Robinson)
July 20, 1999.

My wife and I are in our sixties
and the kids are gone
But we're not gonna waste away
our lives are going on
There's a lot to do and
we've got time to spare
We won't let fun pass us by
we're out to get our share.

Chorus:

Some people say we behave like

two teen age kids
I guess they suppose we
have flipped our lids
They don't know because they
haven't turned that page
In spite of what they think we are
ACTING OUR AGE.

When we go out dancing you
ought to see folks stare
If we can we'll dance with
everybody there
We outlast youngsters half our age
they don't understand
We're not couch potatoes
we can dance to beat the band.

Chorus

After we get home there's

something else to do
I'm not gonna paint a picture
but it ain't peek a boo
The young ones think when sixty comes
all that stuff is done
They don't know what it means to be
a sexagenarian.

Chorus

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This page last updated January 17, 2010.

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