Melissa Ruth: Songs

• MP3 play whole song, hi-fi (broadband)
• MP3 play whole song, lo-fi (modem)

A kettle's on in Oregon
And the wind is from the east.
How is the city treating you?
I haven't heard in weeks.
There must be puddles now in the streets at night
Do you turn your collar high?
There must be lovers now in your bed at night
Do you turn your head and sigh?

I re-read your TS Eliot
"I've heard mermaids singing each to each"
This was underlined many times and this:
"I do not think they will sing to me."
Of this sea I'll take only what I need,
What I need and nothing more.
But my love seeks not the turtle dove
And harems and gold live far from this shore.


I pluck off the last of the Macintosh
It is cold here, cold enough to frost.
The fire is stoked with that old dry oak
And the smoke lingers until it's lost.
The radio plays a scratchy tune, it's the Memphis Blues
I think I'll draw myself a bath
My love, you remind me of
Edith Piaf

If you choose grow bold and choose to grow old
But you cannot bear it alone
Come unto my bed, there's a pillow for your head
A breast on which to rest your weary bones.

La vie en rose.