This series will include as many of my all-time favorite (ATF) tunes as I can get my grubby little hands on (so to speak).  Now, each one included in each edition will have some connection with the other—albeit only as a figment of my imagination, but they will not be numbered.  For I just cannot bring myself to rate some higher than others.  So, this will not be a countdown, but if you are enjoying them as much as I do, it won’t matter.  Besides, with no countdown, this could go on forever and ever!  Oh, and despite the fact that there is absolutely no way your musical tastes could be as exquisite as mine, I welcome any suggestions you might dare to make.  For I am, after all, quite magnanimous by nature.


Don Quixote

Gordon Lightfoot

Through the woodland

Through the valley

Comes a horseman

Wild and free

Tilting at the windmills passing

Who can the brave young horseman be

He is wild

But he is mellow

He is strong

But he is weak

He is cruel

But he is gentle

He is wise

But he is meek

Reaching for his saddlebag

He takes a battered book into his hand

Standing like a prophet bold

He shouts across the ocean to the shore

;Til he can shout no more

I have come over moor and mountain

Like the hawk upon the wing

I was once a shining knight

Who was the guardian of a king

I have searched the whole world over

Looking for a place to sleep

I have seen the strong survive

And I have seen the lean grown weak

See the children of the earth

Who wake to find the table bare

See the gentry in the country

Riding off to take the air

Reaching for his saddlebag

He takes a rusty sword into his hand

Then striking up a knightly pose

He shouts across the ocean to the shore

‘Til he can shout no more

See the jailor with his key

Who locks away all trace of sin

See the judge upon the bench

Who tries the case as best he can

See the wise and wicked ones

Who feed upon life's sacred fire

See the soldier with his gun

Who must be dead to be admired

See the man who tips the needle

See the man who buys and sells

See the man who puts the collar

On the ones who dare not tell

See the drunkard in the tavern

Stemming gold to make ends meet

See the youth in ghetto black

Condemned to life upon the street

Reaching for his saddlebag

He takes a tarnished cross into his hand

Standing like a preacher now

He shouts across the ocean to the shore

Then in a blaze of tangled hooves

He gallops off across the dusty plain

In vain to search again

Where no one will hear

Through the woodland

Through the valley

Comes a horseman

Wild and free

Tilting at the windmills passing

Who can the brave young horseman be

He is wild

But he is mellow

He is strong

But he is weak

He is cruel

But he is gentle

He is wise

But he is meek


Vincent

Don McLean

Starry starry night

Paint your palette blue and gray

Look out on a summer's day

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills

Sketch the trees and the daffodils

Catch the breeze and the winter chills

In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen

They did not know how

Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry starry night

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze

Swirling clouds in violet haze

Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue

Morning fields of amber grain

Weathered faces lined in pain

Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen

They did not know how

Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you

But still your love was true

And when no hope was left inside

On that starry starry night

You took your life as lovers often do

But I could have told you Vincent

This world was never meant for one

As beautiful as you

Starry starry night

Portraits hung in empty halls

Frameless heads on nameless walls

With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met

The ragged men in ragged clothes

The silver thorn of bloody rose

Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen

They're not listening still

Perhaps they never will

Lyrics From: [eLyrics.net]

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