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Lyrics and chords…

           D                     G
West Virginia, oh my home.
            D                          A
West Virginia, where I belong.
In the dead of the night, in the still and the quiet I slip away like a bird
in flight
         D                           A                        D
Back to those hills, the place that I call home.

It’s been years now since I left there
And this city life’s about got the best of me.
I can’t remember why I left so free what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see,
But I can sure remember where I come from.


Well I paid the price for the leavin’
And this life I have is not one I thought I’d find.
Just let me live, love, let my cry, but when I go just let me die
Among the friends who’ll remember when I’m gone.


G         A        D                                                 A
Home, home, home. I can see it so clear in my mind.
G         A       D
Home, home, home. I can almost smell the honeysuckle vines.

Repeat last two lines of chorus

My good friend, Sally, is playing the guitar in the very last segment…along with Ginny the singer.

Many of these folks would hang out at Augusta and some lived in Elkins area while we were there.

It brings a warm feeling to my heart.

(here’s a picture of Sallie, who lives in Idaho now, and her fellow stringband members, The Wild Coyotes…)

Let the designer know….See Irenic Thoughts, a priest from King of Peace Episcopal Church in Kingsland, GA

And here’s an ad from Trinity Cathedral in Sacramento:

monthly archives


Joan of Arc

I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing yet they give their lives to that little or nothing. One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. And then it is gone. But to sacrifice what you are and live without belief, that's more terrible than dying.--

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November 2009



On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

John O'Donohue, Echoes of Memory