Deej,
Your wonderful selection crapped out at 2:28 into the song.
I was enjoying it but need to hear how the story ends.
Somehow it got cut short. If you get a chance to reformat it, I'd really like to listen to the whole song.
That dude has a really cool voice.
It makes me want to listen to the words.
As I listen to it again I begin my search on google.
Here's what I see:
1. Song Of The Candle
2. Stan Rogers
3. same
4. 1974
5. A child of Maritime stock on both sides of his family, Stan Rogers was born in Hamilton, Ont. on November 29, 1949. He grew to be a big man-six feet four-built like a fire truck, and posessed of a voice that rumbled from his toes. He could bluff and bellow yet was at heart a poet and intellect who would, often as not, sneak away from a gathering to curl up with a book. He made friends and enemies easily, gaining the former for life and often, in time, converting the latter.
He became a songwriter too, working as a rock bassist while still a teenager and later embracing the folk idiom. After a few years as a more-or-less conventional folkie songwriter, he discovered his real gift. After some persuasion by his Aunt June in Canso Nova Scotia, he began to write songs about his familial home...his roots. Those early songs found their way on to Stan's first album, Fogarty's Cove, and he was on his way. From that point forward, Stan's best writing was about the Canadian experience. His songs gave a new voice to ordinary folks who worked the fisheries, mines and farms of this vast country.
Stan was a passionate Canadian partisan, and much of his short creative life was taken up with song cycles that chronicled the East, the Plains, the West and finally the Great Lakes and Ontario. It was a natural progression for a wanderer...to scan a continent and finally return to write of the wonders of home.
He was always on the road pursuing his dream of establishing a national identity for Canadian songwriting. It was a dream fulfilled; through his constant soaring, dynamic performances, and brilliant songs, he was known throughout most of the English-speaking folk music world. Stan died in a fire on Air Canada flight 797 at Cincinnati, Ohio airport on June 2nd, 1983. He was returning from a folk festival in Kerrville, Texas. Memorials and honours were numerous in the months that followed and in May, 1984 he was posthumously awarded the Diplôme d'Honneur by the Canadian Conference of the Arts.
His music continues to amaze, amuse and inspire people from all walks of life. It has appeared in several poetry anthologies, been used in films, plays and musicals, and has been referred to as "one of the touchstones of modern Canadian history."
=====
Here are the lyrics to that candle song:
I took up my pen tonight. I couldn't seem to write.
It's like I got religion and then I lost the light
An old woman once told me she'd always felt that way...
She said "Taken from the mold when it can still run
A candle might not keep you from the cold
But buy another candle, son, it's not too much to pay
For one more try." And I had to smile
Before I walked away.
Coffee houses bother me. I cannot tell you why.
But, it never seems "hello" sounds as sweet as "goodbye".
And the waitresses, in passing, remember all your names...
They say "Look around and try to meet a single eye".
And "empty cups will mock me if I stay, but
Buy another coffee, Stan, it's not too much to pay.
And we will try to raise your smile
Before you walk away.
Tonight in a room full of candles another cup of ashes drains away
And, at times, it gets so hard to handle
Knowing one more song has swiftly taken wing
And I'm left alone to hear the song a lonely candle sings.
The priest, I found, was nervous. He cleared his throat a lot.
But, framed in stained glass windows, his eyes were lost in thought.
And I said "Father, can you tell me...is some happiness my right?"
He said "Rather seek you joy, the blessings of your God,
And happiness from worship in his sight.
And buy another candle son, before you start to pray
And don't forget to cross your breast
Before you walk away.
Tonight, in a room full of candles, another cup of madness drains away.
And at times it gets so hard to handle
Knowing one more simple song has swiftly taken wing.
And I'm left alone to hear thhe song a lonely candle sings.
One too many cigarettes, slowly burning down
And the final cup of coffee was cold and full of grounds
And maybe one last pipeful might send the words around
Still, underneath my hand this night has slipped away
And it leaves me as empty as this page
One more candle flickers out, the night is turning grey
And I just can't watch the dying flame
I have to walk away.
Tonight I have burned all my candles
Leaving only ashes in their wake...
And at times, I get so hard to handle
'Cause simple songs leave me behind, they all have taken wing
And I'm left alone to hear the song a lonely candle sings...
-Clappy |
