March 4-Track Song 2: Tater Carrot Diamond

Art by Billis Helg

(Will post wav later, I don't have it on me right now!)

I’ve been learning some American folk songs collected by Alan Lomax, and the first seeds of this song sprang out of that well. I couldn’t tell you what a “tater carrot diamond” is, but I know one thing - not everyone hopes for it. Among those folk songs was one called Mr. Rabbit:

“Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, your ears are mighty long!”

Yes, bless God, they were put on wrong

Every little soul’s gonna shine, gonna shine…

I loved the chorus, and kept it in mind, ultimately finding a spot for it at this song’s conclusion. Midway through writing, I happened to read through the wonderful story of Juan Diego encountering Our Lady of Guadalupe. Juan was a Nahua peasant who found the Virgin Mary waiting on a hillside for him on his way into the city. She showed him flowers in midwinter, which he gathered to bring to the bishop, as a sign of where Mary’s new house was to be. Despite the geographical difference, it seemed like a natural fit to a song about the quiet hopes of simple living - hopes which are far from small, and have a great impact on many.

Recording:

Track 1: Acoustic Guitar

Track 2: 12-string Guitar

Tracks 3-4: Vocals

Lyrics:

Climbing up the hill of the thorns and thistles

Shining like gold when I hear your song

Not everyone hopes for a tater carrot diamond

Not everyone hopes for a silver plated hoe

Know for sure as long as I don’t think about it

Patient as the porridge cooking in the pot

Not everyone hopes for a tater carrot diamond

Not everyone hopes for a silver plated hoe

Blue skies climbing through the winter’s window

Rainclouds sounding the drums for spring

Some people gather their stars in the morning

Some people gather their stars at night

No man’s tractor reaping all these gleanings

joy you can’t pick up with a hundred hands

Some people gather their stars in the morning

Some people gather their stars at night

I’m only going as far as your house

South wind coming, gathering me in

All I ever wanted was a bun from your oven

All I ever wanted was a loaf from your stove

I’ll carry you back the flowers you watered

Roses in my tilma, see in them your hope

All I ever wanted was a bun from your oven

All I ever wanted was a loaf from your stove

Every little soul’s gonna shine, gonna shine