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7/26 

Been a good summer so far... playing my new Martin ukulele ( a birthday present for my 5oth) ... I call it Sonny after Sonny Ochs because it's small and fills the room with sweetness! I hadn't put Sonny down for a couple days after I got it and Beth became concerned when she heard me rehearsing the National Anthem on it prior to going over to Citizens Bank Park to sing for the Phillies' game.  She let out a big sigh of relief when she saw my loading my guitar into the van and told me she'd seriously considered an intervention.  Apparently she worried that my playing the Star Spangled Banner on uke would lack a certain gravitas, and could potentially  be taken as some kind of political statement...   Moi?   :)

Had a chance to spend a few days with the Guthries in the Berkshires ... Abe and Krishna, along with guitarist Tim Sears, will be backing me up at the Philadelphia Folk Festival next month. I've been so used to playing these songs alone ... it will be  a lot of fun to perform them with the guys.  

Been continuing to  write.  More new lyrics below: 

Prison Bible
(John Flynn) 

Jesus has no truer disciple than the lonely man who reads a prison bible

His cell mate wears a skull cap and he quotes from the Koran
but his momma raised him up to be a Christian man
And he’ll call “brother” anyone who in humility
bows his head and asks for heaven’s help on bended knee

He’d strayed from the righteous path and lost the faith he’d known
ever since he was a small boy in his momma’s home
But in his darkest hour he found though he’d gravely sinned
The God he turned his back on never turned his back on him 

Jesus has no truer disciple than the lonely man who reads a prison bible

When he feels deep within the choking darkness of despair
he turns like the good thief on the cross to Christ in prayer
And offers up the desolation Jesus knew too well
Having spent the night before he died inside a cell

Like Simon of Cyrene he tries to shoulder up the load
For others who like Jesus stumble on that Calvary road
When the cross they carry grows to burdensome to bear
He looks in their faces and he sees the savior there

Jesus has no truer disciple than the lonely man who reads a prison bible

He saves his prized possessions in between its tattered covers
In Luke 2.35 he folds the letters from his mother
Matthew 7. 9 guards well the post card from his son
And Acts 12 is saved for the note that so far hasn't come

He knows that he’s done wrong and that he’s got to pay a price
But trusts that Jesus’ mercy waits for him in paradise
The kingdom is a journey that begins within the heart
No prison walls are high enough to stop it once it starts  

Jesus has no truer disciple than the lonely man who reads a prison bible

 

© 2007 Flying Stone Music

America’s Waiting
(John Flynn)

There’s a clock on the wall and the train on the track ...  Americas waiting
You step from the platform without looking back ’cause … Americas waiting
A seat by the window, a ticket to ride, the silver coach lurches and then starts to glide
And lately you got a feeling inside America’s waiting for you

You learn the old rhythms as you roll along … America’s waiting
The beat of the heartland is steady and strong…yes, America’s waiting
The steel rails stretch out just like old guitar strings… a driving wheel bigger than God’s gold earring
strums them and you hear a continent sing that America’s waiting for you

To believe again the things we used to say
We’d believe again someday

In the tall mountain pines and the green rolling plains…America’s waiting
In the roar of the great rivers swollen with rain…America’s waiting
Where the red tail hawk wheels and the bald eagle soars
On the thermals that rise from the rock canyon rock floors
From the Mexican gulf to the great northern shores…America’s waiting for you

To believe again the things we used to say
We’ll believe again someday

In the sweat on the faces of people who toil…America’s waiting
To fill empty bellies from the rows in the  soil …America’s waiting
In the songs that are sung and the prayers that are prayed
By the regular ones trying to get through the day
Where factories close and the jobs move away…America’s waiting for you

To believe again the things we used to say
We’ll believe in them someday

At the church-basement shelter, the soup kitchen door…America’s waiting
In the eyes of the soldier just back from the war…America’s waiting
We’re over a barrel and under the gun
With old wounds to bind and new races to run
These days there’s a whole lot of work to be done and America’s waiting for you
 

© 2007 Flying Stone Music

(c) John Flynn, All rights reserved