“Musical stylings are similar to that of Steve Earle, Merle Travis and others in the folk roots genre.” ~ Sandy Johnson
by Murray Little with Cathy Checora
Racing down the hill when he was just a child
A little bit reckless and wild
He tumbled o’er the bar, you van still see the scars
It never once cramped his style
In a brown leather apron, worn with age
Working in the smoke filled haze
Drawing out the iron with the hot sparks flyin’
Forging tools of the trade.
He had love in his heart, he had kindness in his soul
A gentle, hard working man
Wearing lines, wearing lines
Wearing lines of time on his hands.
Blackened with dust from the coal mine seams
Or grease from the farm machines
A blue collared man in a white collared land
Working hard to build a dream.
Hard calloused hands have seen hardship and strife
Felt the loving touch of a wife
Comforted the dying, wiped the tears from the crying
They have held a brand new life.
© 2016 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Hey pretty lady with the red dress on
Buskin’ on the corner, all day long
Sing it sweet but sing it strong
Sing pretty lady with your red dress on
Your song is like a lover’s kiss, the pleasure without pain
Whiskey from a paper bag dulls my aching brain
Cold fire in my belly, the voice of a gypsy queen
We are chasing rainbows, shadows of our dreams
So sing pretty lady
Sing for me a high lonesome song
Sing pretty lady
Sing it sweet but sing it strong
I worked hard all my life getting closer to my goal
But every time that I look up it’s farther than before
Now I wander empty streets, hat held in my hand
Searching for the answers, I do not understand
I’m leaving here tomorrow on a slow train heading south
Going home in glory where my bones will turn to dust
They say the grass is greener, just on down the line
Make my bed in darkness, leave troubles far behind.
© 2018 Murray D Little (SOCAN), Peter May, Dianne Sophia Quinton (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Street light shining through my window pane
Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain
Darkness creeps upon me, seeps into my soul
Black Dog howls at my door.
I close my eyes, see the fallen lay
On the muddy battlefield where I learned to Pray
Angel on my shoulder, rifle in my hand
Sent me home a shell of a man.
Just holding on, holding on
In the silence of the dark before the dawn
Just holding on, holding on
A shell of a man just holding on.
Jump at my own shadow, back towards the wall
All your thoughts and prayers can’t help me at all
Haunted by the horror, I could not understand
Left me a shell of a man.
Daylight shining through my window pane
Made it through the night to sunshine again
Will it be whiskey or sacramental wine
Choices of a troubled mind.
© 2017 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
An ache in my heart that’s deeper than deep
Hollow feeling I just can’t beat
Been through hell but I could not find
The source of this Devil troublin’ my mind.
I lie in bed, these nights without end
Close my eyes, I see you with her
Living the life that I wanted to
I’m a Fallen Angel, fallen for you.
Darling, kiss me once more
Before I lock up my windows, seal up my door
One last time secure in your arms
Your Fallen Angel I mean you no harm.
Should have known I’d never fit in
Destined to stand on the sidelines again
Always watching never part of the game
I’m a Fallen Angel, no one to blame.
Worshiped the ground that you walked upon
Now it’s clear your passion is gone
Being friends is all you need
But I just can’t help how I feel.
So I’m build walls that you can’t get around
No doorways or windows will ever be found
My walls are thick to shut out the pain
And stop the tears from falling again.
© 2019 Murray Little (SOCAN), Murray Fitch (SOCAN) and Laura Wytrykush. Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Five hundred dollars can’t buy you much comfort
In a city of fortune and fame
The rich getting richer, the poor wonderin’ why
They’re nothing but pawns in the game.
At the top of the class they all said I’d go far
The girl most likely to shine
When twisting of fate on the road in the night
Dealt a hand that wasn’t so kind.
Where is my white knight to come rescue me
To take me away from my reality
Tell me a story, a fairy tale story
With a happy ending for me
Of Princes and Kings, castles and Queens
Spared a life of broken down dreams.
In a rundown motel on the outskirts of town
The woman now well past her prime
In the arms of a lover who pays by the hour
My mask say’s that I’m doing fine.
Nights spent alone in a tumbled down shack
Just to get out of the rain
A day to day existence, getting by and getting high
My choices to numb all the pain.
© 2018 Murray D. Little (SOCAN) & Sandra Ann Johnson (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
I’m a piece of the puzzle a part of the plan
The skin of a lion on the heart of a lamb
The meek may inherit, the strong will survive
Let’s look at others with open eyes.
Come on down to my world
See life from a different point of view
Not everyone’s the same …
Come walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes.
Sitting on wheels in the middle of the crowd
Can’t move ahead and can’t go around
Doorway’s too narrow, ramp it is too steep
You walk on by and our eyes never meet.
I walk among you old and grey
A living legacy of yesterday
I have stories to tell, wisdom to share
If only you’d listen, if only you’d care.
The colour of our skin, the work that we do
Who we choose to love, LGBTQ
The language we speak, the faith we believe
Together let us stand and wipe away the fear.
© 2018 Murray D. Little (SOCAN) & Suzanne Allison Martin (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Daddy was a hustling kid, but had much bigger dreams
Destined for the steel mills, till Grandma intervened
Sent him off to law school, admitted to the bar
Justice comes in trickles … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
My sister walked the wild side, breakin’ all the rules
Heading down that lonely road to almost certain ruin
She runs a children’s clinic, in far off Zanzibar
Brings health, hope and tickles … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
Grandma was a dumpster diver
Back alley filled shopping cart driver
She kept all her earnings in an old pickle jar
We didn’t understand, Grandma had a plan
Nickels not pickles, made us who we are.
My daughter is a singer, turning stories into rhyme
Every time she’s on the stage, Grandma comes to mind
All her hits were written, on a custom made guitar
Bought with quarters, dimes and nickels … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
That pickle jar’s still with me, sitting on the floor
Like a bank with dreams and promise, she opened up the door
From Grandma down to Daddy, from Daddy down to me
Invest in love and promise … be all that you can be.
© 2018 Murray Little (SOCAN) & Gerald Robert Chartier (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Racing down the hill when he was just a child
Raw-boned and reckless; wound up and wild
He tumbled o’er the bars, he’ll show you the scars
Didn’t even slow him down or cramp his style.
In a brown leather apron, worse for wear with age
Testament to time-served, in the smoke-filled haze
Drawing out the iron – molten sparks a-flyin’
Forging his tools of the trade.
With love in his heart and kindness in his soul
A humble and a hard working man
Wearing lines, wearing lines
Wearing lines of time on his hands
Blackened with the dust and grime from the coal mine seam
Engine oil or axle grease from the farm machines
The blue collared man in a white collared land
Working hard to build a dream.
Those horn calloused hands know the toil of a working life
The burn of an errant blade and the touch of a loving wife
Brought comfort to the dying, wiped tears from the crying
They held and cradled a brand new life.
© 2018 Murray D. Little (SOCAN) & Steven J. Goodchild (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Take me down, (take me down), take me down, (take me down)
Take me down to the water, take me down
Take me down, (take me down), take me down, (take me down)
Take me down to the water, take me down.
When I was a baby in my mama’s arms
The sign of the cross in oil upon my brow
Stood before the altar in the name of the Lord
Baptized with water just to save my soul.
When I was a young man, wild and running free
I’d go down to the river, my girlfriend and me
Lie on a blanket ‘neath the hot July sun
Cool off in the water, let that old river run.
When I was a daddy, with children of my own
We’d go down to the ocean, down to the shore
Jump through the waves, build castles in the sand
Walk along the water’s edge hand in hand.
Now I am an old man, my time is nearly done
Take me to the springs where the mineral waters run
Lie in the current, soothe my aching bones
Let the hearling waters carry me home.
© 2008 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
I have seen the towers tumble from the sky
I have watched the soldiers march to battle fall and die
I have read the tear stained letters, I have heard the orphans cry
I have seen the darkness but I know
We will rise, we will rise.
I have seen the raging rivers rising from their beds
I have heard the whirling winds singing dirges for the dead
I have tasted ash from angry fires blackening the sky
I have seen the darkness but I know
We will rise, we will rise.
I have seen the lines of sorrow etched upon your face
For the loved ones who have flown across the threshold into space
Never seen the Pearly Gates, but I’ve heard the sinners lies
I have seen the darkness but I know
We will rise, we will rise.
Like a phoenix we will rise
From the ashes from the flames
Our souls cannot be broken, and
Our wills cannot be tamed
Like a phoenix we will rise, we will rise, we will rise
Oh again, oh again.
I have heard the gurgles from a baby’s lips
As her mother sings a lullaby and rocks her on her hips
I have found salvation in my lover’s eye
I have seen the sunshine, and I know
We will rise, we will rise, we will rise, we will rise.
© 2018 Murray D Little (SOCAN) & Murray Alan Fitch (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Winding through the pine trees, up in the quiet north
A lonely stretch of asphalt heading for the coast
Tragedy has fallen, down through the years
Everybody calls it the Highway of Tears.
Road of Sorrow, Road of Pain
Remember our lost, remember every name
Road of Heartache, Road of Fear
Darkness descending, Highway of Tears
Standing on the shoulder, thumb out for a ride
A young girl heading out but she does not arrive
No one know the reason, she just disappeared
Joined the line of crosses on the Highway of Tears
Walking down the Yellowhead, looking for a sign
Searching for an answer to easy his troubled mind
His heartache will never end, his pain won’t disappear
Lost his only daughter on the Highway of Tears
Road of Sorrow, Road of Pain
Remember our lost, remember every name
Road of Heartache, Road of Fear
Darkness descending, Highway of Tears
Lonely and forsaken, Highway of Tears
Remember those Lost … to the Highway of … Tears
© 2009 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
In the spring of every year I pack my bags and head out here
To find a little bit of heaven borrowed from a different time
Friends gather from all around lift their voices up in song
Creating stolen moments in borrowed time.
When the music starts to play all my cares fade away
The rhythms and the rhymes soothe my inmost soul
I’m living, living never feeling more alive
Sharing stolen moments in borrowed time.
Inspiration moves me so, boundaries pushed and spirit soar
I’m pumped up so high, energies, entwine
I’m flying, flying in a surrealistic dream
Sustained by stolen moments in borrowed time.
When the last song is sung, harmonies linger on
My friends all head back home my feet touch the ground
‘Til I’m back, to sing, that chorus once again
I’ve stolen moment memories from borrowed time.
© 2001 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
January, February, June and July
The pages of the calendar fly on by
I’m busy, busy, busy don’t know up from down
I never have a moment to just look around.
STOP! What’s your hurry
RELAX! Take some time to breath
ENJOY! The little pleasures of life
Stop and smell the roses feel the breeze at night
Say “I love you”, to someone dear
Hug a child, smile, laugh til the tears
Run down you face make you feel alive
Seize the moment before it passes you by.
Working in the city in a concrete cage
40 stories high among the smog and haze
Hurry, hurry, hurry time is running late
I never have a moment to just contemplate.
…
Who needs to be the first across Life’s finish line.
© 2008 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
There’s an ache in my heart that’s deeper than deep
A hollow empty feeling that I just can’t beat
Been through hell with the devil but I cold ot find
The source of this torment that troubles my mind.
So kiss me my darling, kiss me once more
Before I lock up my windows, seal up my door
Lie here beside me, secure in my arms
I’m your fallen angel I mean you no harm.
I lie in my bed these nights without end
When I close my eyes, I see you with him
Doing the things that I’m longing to do
I’m an angel that’s fallen, I’ve fallen for you.
I should have known that I’d never fit in
I’m destined to stand on these sidelines again
Always a watcher, never part of the game
I’m an angel that’s fallen, I got no one to blame
I worshiped the ground that you walked upon
I savoured the air that you breathed
You wanted a friend, which I could not be …
So tonight I build walls that you can’t get around
No doorways no windows will ever be found
The walls will be sturdy to lessen my pain
And stop all these teardrops from falling again.
© 2002 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
When you were young we sheltered you from harm
Taught you what was right and what was wrong
We guided you each step along the way
Knowing that some day you’d fly away.
Spread your wings, feel the wind beneath you rise
Spread your wings, test the air currents as you glide
Spread your wings, searching out the far horizons
Spread your wings! Spread your wings and fly.
As time passed by your pathways were less clear
If you stumbled or you faltered we were near
Now its time to leave the sheltered nest
The world is yours embark upon your quest.
Spread your wings, have the courage just to try
Trust in faith!, Let His spirit be your guide
Know yourself, believe in who you are
Spread your wings! Spread your wings and fly.
Dance with joy, laugh, its your right
Your love of life will keep your spirit bright
The power is yours to be whate’er you might
Your soul strong and true guides your flight.
Spread your wings, feel the wind beneath you rise
Spread your wings, test the air currents as you glide
Spread your wings, searching out the far horizons
Spread your wings! Spread your wings and fly
Don’t be afraid to try
Trust in faith to be your guide
And spread your wings and fly!
© 2000 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Mile after mile down dusty old roads
A rusted old pickup, bad choices and goals
So many evenings playing Legions and bars
Wishing for glory, chasing my star.
I’m writing songs about things I have seen
People I’ve met, places I’ve seen
Singing for strangers a life that I choose
Wishing the dreams, all would come true
I pass by a wishing well toss in my change
I’ve wished for fortune, I’ve wished for fame
Now I wish that you were here by my side
But there’s no more wishes the well has gone dry.
The music has ended, the bar has shut down
Sidewalks rolled up, everyone’s gone
Wrapped up in silence, the moon glowing white
Wishing an end to dark lonely nights.
Stare out the window, mist rising up
A bottle of whiskey in an old coffee cup
Coyote wails, I’m feeling blue
Wish you were here, I’m missing you.
I pass by a wishing well toss in my change
I’ve wished for fortune, I’ve wished for fame
Now I wish that you were here by my side
But there’s no more wishes the well has gone dry
There’s no more wishes the wishing well’s dry.
© 2018 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Late night in Jasper in a quiet place
At the foot of Pyramid Mountain, an island in the lake
Now when I cross the wooden bridge I walk into a dream
You stand before me, forever seventeen.
Your eyes full of innocence and grace
Your skin soft and warm beneath the lace
Your scent still lingers in the air
A reminder of all we shared.
Summer of Love, flowers in your hair
Rally cry of freedom rings through the air
Peace, love, rock n roll, psychedelic dreams
Young and in love, forever seventeen.
It’s all an illusion of a mind growing old
Sifting though ashes of love long gone cold
I wonder who you are today? What might have been?
My memories of you are forever seventeen.
Your eyes full of innocence and grace
Your skin soft and warm beneath the lace
Your scent still lingers on the breeze
In my mind you’re forever seventeen
Forever and ever seventeen
Forever seventeen.
© 2018 Murray D. Little (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.
Merry Christmas Con
I hope this finds you well and enjoying the festive season.
You have been on my mind recently as we were recording Forever Seventeen, for reasons that will become obvious as you read this. In addition to the song, and likely due to the time of year, I recall a photograph of you sitting on the piano bench in the living room of your home on Cumberland Ave, Christmas tree in the background, holding a new teddy bear – I have no idea where that photo would be today!
Forever Seventeen is the first song I have written about you in almost 50 years and was prompted by experiences I had while visiting Jasper Park in 2008 and 2014. It was fall and the air was crisp and clear – we visited Pyramid Lake to photograph the Mountain from the Island. The moment I stepped off the bridge onto the island I felt your presence and thoughts of you filled my mind. These thoughts lingered in the back of my mind and sometimes in the forefront while I wandered around the island taking pictures. The moment I stepped back onto the bridge to leave the island those thoughts dissipated. I did not dwell on them at the time but found the experience pleasant if not a bit strange.
Skip ahead to 2014 and we are once again in Jasper for Thanksgiving weekend, it is colder, rainy with the threat of snow (which did fall overnight and cut our weekend short). In a brief respite from the cold driving rain we drove out to Pyramid Lake to get some fresh air and a walk around the island. The same thing occurred as in 2008 the moment I stepped onto the island your presence was there until I left the island. The rain returned and we retreated to the warmth of the fire in the Japer Library and read our books. Putting my book down to reflect on the 2 experiences and wondered WHY they happened – were you okay? I enjoyed a pleasant trip down memory lane and recalled visiting the Island in the early 80 and wondering if you have spent time on the island when you had the summer job at the camera store and looked to see if you had signed your name to the walls of the picnic shelter on the island … I digress … during my ponderings of the two more recent visits to the island I realized I was remembering you as a teenager and I do not know the woman you became or the experiences that have shaped you into who you are today. Would I still know you? Would you still know me? Do we have anything in common? etc … and this was the start of the song Forever Seventeen. It has gone through many re-writes to get it to this stage, the first draft, influenced by a songwriting coach, lies in the bottom of a drawer – it turned out not to be the song I had envisioned. I started afresh!
Rambling story … but this is the result is the rough recording below. It will be edited, properly mixed and mastered and will appear on a CD I hope to release in the spring of 2019. I hope you enjoy it.
With fond memories
MuR