|Bardic Circle Featuring Bootlegg Shaman...
(by Michael Kendrick)
Audience Count: 11,018
This song is dedicated to my wife, whose beauty, devotion, and artistic talents are unmatched by any other woman in the world. She is from Delhi, Louisiana, down in cajun country. I'm from Columbia, a tiny town in south Mississippi. I moved to Atlanta in October of '87, and inadvertently met her briefly in Phase IV, my old rehearsal studio. The second time we met is a different story. I had begun my Magickal journey late in life, having no teacher; but I learned the art of prayer and visualization. At 29, I was lonely and tired of dating. With much meditation, I mentally conjured up the woman of my dreams. I knew I had to be specific, and I included every detail of her persona, from the sound of her voice to the shape of her hands, from her bare feet and gypsy skirts to the tone of her skin, and her likes and dislikes. It took a year.
I ran an ad in the musician's exchange, hoping to find a band to join; and who should answer but the same girl I'd met five years earlier. The guy she was married to at the time was her guitarist. We were all interested in working together, some of us more than the other, so later I went to meet her for an impromptu rehearsal. She was alone, and when I walked into her apartment, she stood up; lo and behold; without the frumpy sweater & glasses and her auburn hair brushed and shining, wearing a gypsy skirt, barefoot, well, the rest is history. So this was the exact picture I'd mentally painted. Speaking of history, uor entire story will be revealed in our book, yet untitled, about the Little Five Points/Ponce de Leon days.
Recorded: Exocet Studios, Atlanta GA
Guests/Players: Vocals: kellye Kendrick, cello: Peter Searcy, acoustic guitar: Michael Kendrick
Technical Notes: 1 cello, 1 acoustic guitar, 1 voice
LINK to the mp3 File: Click HERE
(words & music by Michael Kendrick)
I was born in the alley in a backwoods town about the time the white man come around. Me & the devil & the dog makes three; I swear I heard your voice, a choice above the noise inside me; like the earth, like a sister. Spanish moss in the breeze and the black cat's mew, screech owls in your dreams of the night bayou, Wiccan woman, is the swamp a-callin' you? Winter come like a baby climbin' on your knee; you pluck my heart strings with your athame'. My amour, you are poetry... Wiccan woman. So paint me a portrait of a swampland home, deadly nightshade and toad and black cat bone. Carry the legacy within your soul; the moon, the Goddess, the night, the Queen Creole... see how she flies. Take me to a sabbat in the month of May, help me to forget the pain of yesterday. Fear of God is the white man's way, say, "Power to the people," but they... stick a needle in my eye. Spanish moss in the breeze & the black cat's mew, screech owls in your dreams of the night bayou; Wiccan woman, is the swamp a-callin' you? Winter come like a baby climbin' on your knee, you pluck my heart strings with your athame'; my amour, you are poetry... Wiccan woman. Touch me, wiccan woman
copyright 1999 Silver Pearl Music ASCAP