Feed me with those cords from the cradle of soul and blues
rhythms with rhyme gentle as dew
it lifts my soul to a summit beyond heights
and makes my sorrows vanish with the night
to see me young, wild and free in yesterday's tomorrow
and remind posterity of a ritual pure as snow
magical notes from roots so bold
never cold though so old
cherished beyond a thousand folds
like fountains of peace and gifts of gold