Walk the lines of nature's palm crossed with silver and with gold.

But the tune ends too soon for us all

Come with me to the Winged Isle- Northern father's Western child Where the Dance of Ages is playing still through far marches of Acres Wild.

Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather.

I make up my own mind in light of available facts, with my own experience and a sense of personal ethics.

It's only the giving that makes you what you are.

If Jesus Christ came back today, He and I would get into our brown corduroys and go to the nearest jean store and overturn the racks of blue denim.