The Last Folksinger
from Journey Home by Tom Smith
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about
In memory of Bill Bonyun, folksinger/musicologist of Olde Sturbridge Village, MA and Wiscasset, ME. Also remembering Mike Seeger, Sandy Paton, Sam Hinton, Sandy Ives - and with unending admiration for Pete Seeger. Sing on! Thanks to Dave Carter for "Cowboy Singer."
lyrics
The Last Folksinger
by Tom Smith, TomSmithMusic.com
On my way home after playing a show,
Driving alone, I crashed in the snow.
I climbed from the car, thanked God that I could
My electric guitar lay crushed where I stood
I didn’t know then but that was a sign
Was it fate, omen, luck or design?
I met an old man. He stood at his door
He gave me his hand. I took so much more.
I sat by his fire. He went to the hall
Took down his guitar that hung on the wall.
He sang of the past like a saint to a sinner.
I knew that this must be the last folksinger.
The magic was plain. It was wrapped in his song.
I can’t explain but as I sang along
To his songs about sailors, farmers and such
Mill workers and tailors, I swear I could touch
Their calluses, sores, and sweat on their brows
As they pulled on their oars and pushed on their plows.
It’s true that my plow has a different name.
As I push on it now I sweat just the same.
When our eyes met I knew he could see
That I was in debt. His songs were in me.
Songs that will last in my soul. They will linger
As they live in the soul of the last folksinger.
He sang of the future, of peace love and light.
And how we can get there if we just sing it right
To a world that is waking to the words and the chords
Of his songs for the making of plowshares from swords.
The thought came along, what will become
Of all of his songs when the old man is gone?
For nothing I made ever gave my heart wings
Like those songs that he played on six humble strings.
I awoke the next day the old man had died.
His sad guitar lay right there by his side
Seeming to ask for the touch of his finger
And the sound of the voice of the last folksinger.
I found a note tucked under the strings.
Words that he wrote, “A new bell must ring.
I pass my guitar. It’s the bell you’re the ringer.
Sing on! is the hope of the last folksinger.”
... the last folksinger.
by Tom Smith, TomSmithMusic.com
On my way home after playing a show,
Driving alone, I crashed in the snow.
I climbed from the car, thanked God that I could
My electric guitar lay crushed where I stood
I didn’t know then but that was a sign
Was it fate, omen, luck or design?
I met an old man. He stood at his door
He gave me his hand. I took so much more.
I sat by his fire. He went to the hall
Took down his guitar that hung on the wall.
He sang of the past like a saint to a sinner.
I knew that this must be the last folksinger.
The magic was plain. It was wrapped in his song.
I can’t explain but as I sang along
To his songs about sailors, farmers and such
Mill workers and tailors, I swear I could touch
Their calluses, sores, and sweat on their brows
As they pulled on their oars and pushed on their plows.
It’s true that my plow has a different name.
As I push on it now I sweat just the same.
When our eyes met I knew he could see
That I was in debt. His songs were in me.
Songs that will last in my soul. They will linger
As they live in the soul of the last folksinger.
He sang of the future, of peace love and light.
And how we can get there if we just sing it right
To a world that is waking to the words and the chords
Of his songs for the making of plowshares from swords.
The thought came along, what will become
Of all of his songs when the old man is gone?
For nothing I made ever gave my heart wings
Like those songs that he played on six humble strings.
I awoke the next day the old man had died.
His sad guitar lay right there by his side
Seeming to ask for the touch of his finger
And the sound of the voice of the last folksinger.
I found a note tucked under the strings.
Words that he wrote, “A new bell must ring.
I pass my guitar. It’s the bell you’re the ringer.
Sing on! is the hope of the last folksinger.”
... the last folksinger.
credits
from Journey Home,
released November 6, 2011
by Tom Smith
(c) 2009, 2011 Peabody Hill Publishing (ASCAP)
Tom Smith: vocals, guitar
Seth Connelly: lead guitar, bass
by Tom Smith
(c) 2009, 2011 Peabody Hill Publishing (ASCAP)
Tom Smith: vocals, guitar
Seth Connelly: lead guitar, bass
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Tom Smith Boston, Massachusetts
“Folk music is still a living tradition that feeds on new songs that speak of people’s wants, needs, struggles and triumphs. Tom Smith is a man who writes songs that seem like they’ve always been there. There are very few songwriters working today that I would call folksingers, but I would call Tom Smith a true folksinger.” – Dave Palmeter, WUMB-FM Boston ... more
discography
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Dec 2020 -
Mar 2020 -
Nov 2011 -
Jan 2019
contact / help
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