When the Porters sound the trumpet
For a gathering of friends
You can leave the hourglass at home
Cause you’ll have no need for sand

Half a pound of shrimp apiece
And half a quart of wine
I guess we came unwound a bit
Where the Shenandoah winds

Trading tunes for sips of whiskey
Sharing songs for gulps of air
And if I could even see to play
Then I’m sure I played my share

And while the river hums
Sweet southern harmonies
A father and a son

There were girls of all description
There were scenes of all disguise
As they filed by with plates of food
It was a feast for hungry eyes

Then a father, full of wisdom
Said I learned when I was young
That a pretty face ain’t worth the chase
Go ugly early, son


And then loneliness conspires
Like old women over cards
To throw matchsticks at dry wood to see
If one might shoot back sparks

And there shines that certain moonlight
Seems to whisper in your ear
That the fire keeps you just so warm
As the closest girl is near


But when you gaze at her beside you
You best rid yourself of pride
Til the colors of your feathers
They match the color of your hide

Cause in the question of the conquest
You might find it’s just as true
That the girl that you chose early
She went ugly early, too


Now it strikes me more than memories
When I think back on that night
That a father could be quite so wrong
And still so deeply right

But you share the fruit you’ve gathered
Like you share the night in songs
Well ain’t it like a father’s words
To hold you like a son. Just like a son.


Copyright 2007. Words and music by Danny Schmidt