I've had fame and fortune, women come knock on my door
I've lived to the limit and maybe a little bit more
There are so many stories of how I got out of control
Some say it's a woman, some say it's my troubled soul
I'm like a crazy old solider fightin'a war on my own
Just me and the whiskey and the bottles are ten thousand strong
You'd think I'd give up as many times as I've been hit
But like a crazy old soldier, I just don? t know…
Baby you're sixteen. That's not old as it may seem.
As for me I can't believe that it's true.
How a little girl who looks and talks like you,
is not mistaken more for twenty two.
Looking in your eyes it's so hard to realize,
that you're a girl who's only in her teens.
But as a woman of my world you are the one
that makes me feel I'm still twenty one.
What am I gonna do, when a young man calls for you
I remember being told once that you can't ever go home again,
well you can but not to the home you left that rainy day in 66.
I look out the window at the rain washing down the streets of my Southern California town
and shiver at the cold 49 degree weather.
" I'm still in Vietnam" I whisper wondering if I'll really ever return from that hell hole,
it's only 10 AM and I'm already on my 3rd scotch of the day heading to 10 or more before…
I. Bissell’s Ride
By Clay Perry
Listen, my children, to my epistle
Of the long, long ride of Israel Bissell,
Who outrode Paul by miles and time
But didn’t rate a poet’s rhyme.
A postman was this Israel Bissell.
Who on his horse, sped like a missile
On April nineteenth, seventy-five,
And few there are who are now alive
Who’ve read of that ride with the “Call to Arms”
Which summoned men with war’s alarms.
At Watertown where the…