Seven Smooth Stones

David strode out to meet Goliath... he took seven smooth stones

he put that giant's ass in a sling; and he did it on his own

he did not go empty handed, t pick that particular bone

(you've got to use what the good lord gave you)

...

it's hard to cast a long shadow when your back's against the wall

stand your ground, and let your sound be a clear clarion call

gather your friends around you, they'll have t deal with us all

(you've got to use what the good lord gave you...)...

...

these 'captains of industry' would have you believe they're our friends

they come across as common thieves to me;

and on this you may depend...

given half a chance, they'll do fr us all, in the end...

(you've got to use what the good lord gave you...)...

...

we're standing n a slippery slope my friends, 

and we're running out of time...

best to dig your heels in, form a straight and solid line...

and take nothing 'free' for granted

in these strange and troubled times

(you've got to use what the good lord ave you...

 it's the only thing that will save you...)

...

David strode out to meet Goliath,

he took seven smooth stones...

   ...well... this song was written for my friend Jon Newton, who hosted a democratic site  dubbed p2p.net back in the earlier days of this whole computer madness ('puter 2 'puter; get it?)... at some point, soneone else's views posted on Jon's site led to a media backlash and litigation. The call went out to supporters of 'internet freedom' tor ally to Jon's aid, and a benefit was organized at The Rivoli Club in Toronto. I was pleased to present this tune there, (on a stage I doubt I will ever see again) and promptly 'lost' it in the chaos and confusion that was my ensuing life. It came back to me prior to the latest recording, and is prefaced with :"My great aunt Gertrude used to say...'you've got to use what the good lord gave you...'..." and indeed she did. Gertrude Tobin lost a new husband in the first world war, and lived out her days a widow. She was a link to the past that I recognized, even as a child; and her house was a step back in time; virtually unchanged over the years.

    My friend Jon Newton moved west, and we lost regular track of one another. He suffered a debilitating stroke; but was still as feisty as ever in our occasional communications. I sing this song in his honour. Jon Newton, defender of democracy. ( I lost the first attempt to post this, so I'd best do it now.) love, d.

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