Random Rose

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Terrapin Station

Robert Hunter – Jerry Garcia – The Grateful Dead
For rhythm click here & here. Click here for slideshow synopsis.

Lady with a Fan

Let my inspiration flow
in token lines suggesting rhythm
that will not forsake me
till my tale is told and done.

While the firelight’s aglow,
strange shadows in the flames will grow
till things we’ve never seen
will seem familiar.

Shadows of a sailor forming,
winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle he loved a lady
many years ago.

Here beside him stands a man,
a soldier by the looks of him,
who came through many fights
but lost at love.

While the storyteller speaks,
a door within the fire creaks,
suddenly flies open
and a girl is standing there.

Eyes alight with glowing hair,
all that fancy paints as fair,
she takes her fan and throws it
in the lion’s den.

“Which of you to gain me, tell,
will risk uncertain pains of Hell?
I will not forgive you,
if you will not take the chance.”

The sailor gave at least a try,
the soldier being much too wise,
strategy was his strength
and not disaster.

The sailor coming out again,
the lady fairly lept at him.
That is how it stands today.
You decide if he was wise.

The storyteller makes no choice.
Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light
and not to master.

Since the end is never told,
we pay the teller off in gold
in hopes he will come back,
but he cannot be bought or sold.

Terrapin Station

Inspiration, move me brightly,
light the song with sense and color,
hold away despair.
More than this I will not ask,
faced with mysteries dark and vast,
statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb
to get to Terrapin.

Counting stars by candlelight,
all are dim but one is bright:
the spiral light of Venus,
rising first and shining best.
From the northwest corner
of a brand-new crescent moon
crickets and cicadas sing
a rare and different tune.

Terrapin Station
in the shadow of the moon.
Terrapin Station
and I know we’ll be there soon.

Terrapin – I can’t figure out
Terrapin – if it’s an end or the beginning,
Terrapin – but the train’s got its brakes on
and the whistle is screaming: “Terrapin!”

At a Siding

While you were gone,
these spaces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden.
With nothing to believe in
the compass always points to Terrapin.

The sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
You’re back in Terrapin for good or ill again.

At a Siding live instrumental

SAGReiss