If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music
It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they’re better left unsung
I don’t know, don’t really care
Let there be songs to fill the air
(Chorus)
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
(Chorus)
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who’s to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home
– Ripple, Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia.
And we’re off!
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Gee, Frank… a member of my Uncle John’s Band, a guy with a Touch of Gray in his hair, was Truckin one night, guided by a Dark Star and a Fire on The Mountain, told me he was feeling bad, sort had those Blues for Allah. Ain’t it Crazy? Well what do you expect, he was Born Cross-Eyed.
My Brother Esau (who was Playing In The Band)was Throwing Stones and said to Turn on Your Love Light, The Race is On, and that there would be some Spanish Jam for Me and My Uncle (No Cream Puff War this time) at The Midnight Hour.
Don’t Mess Up A Good Thing, I replied. Crowd Sculptures Far From Me (Doin’ That Rag)were content to Let it Grow. So we crossed the River of Nine Sorrows (carefully avoiding the Ship Of Fools), drank some Ripple, and then cast a few Seastones in honor of Saint Stephen and the Saint of Circumstance.
Tennessee Jed asked us to Tell Mama that The Music Never Stopped. Remembering that When Push Comes to Shove the People of Cucamonga Let it Grow all over the Brokedown Palace, we gave Betty and Dupree a Box of Rain and told them to pray for a New Potato Caboose.
Since we were at Terrapin Station feeling The Weight, we kissed the Wharf Rat goodbye, I picked up The Wheel and realized it was all just a Sunshine Daydream.
I awoke, lit up a Garcia y Vega (no, not Suzanne Vega) and decided to go Phish. But there are no more Phish jams, so let us just accept that The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down.
Frank Sinatra would say, “Doobie Doobie Do.” Michael McDonald would say to Frank, “yes, my Brother?” And Nancy (daughter of Frank) would just say Something Stupid.
Gee Dean, we just hit the left coast and checked into the Mars Hotel. I’ll have to give all that some more thought.