"Another excellent acoustic track...[Comer] dances all over the strings with shimmering note flurries and dynamic flair...."

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"It is the very inability of the critic to easily hem her into a box that points to Tracy Comer's magnificent songwriting abilities..."

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Autumn Elegy   

© 2002 Tracy Comer, music, and Stephen Elder, lyrics

[Key: Sounding key of F; Tracy plays in DADGAD tuning, full capo at 3rd fret]

An Indian maiden sat gazing to sea
and dreamed of her loved one who’d gone off to war.
Heavy with child and with hope for all three,
she sat there not knowing she’d see him no more.
The path of true love is but seldom carefree
the man she had chosen was not of her own.
Her lover belonged to her tribe’s enemy
This secret was shared with their mothers alone.

Soft footsteps approached as she sat by the water,
her mother came to her with tears in her eyes.
Our men have come back from the war, my dear daughter.
Your father, the chief, is not with them, she cried.
We’ve suffered great losses, the other tribe, too.
The news of your father was brought straight to me.
Before he did fall, I must tell this to you,
my husband slew yours, now both widows are we.

The maiden sat stunned there, her ears unbelieving,
her heart almost stopping, how could this be true?
Her tears starting falling as she began grieving,
her sorrow engulfing her heart as it grew.
Her poor mother went to her, crooned to her, clung to her.
Tears intermingling, so did they both mourn.
This world is so cruel, said the girl to her mother,
To this I’ll not suffer my child to be born.

We’ve long since forgotten what kindled this hate.
Our peoples fight on though there’s naught to be won.
O mother , we’ll go the tribe of my mate.
We’ll make them all see that this war must be done.
They walked past the place where their loved ones were felled,
it willed them more strongly to end all the strife.
They walked to the hills where the enemy dwelled,
made straight for the tent of the chief and his wife.

Red-brown for the hue of the lovers’ smooth skin,
and golden the color of bright morning light.
Soft green for the future their hearts held within,
and purple for passion of love’s sweet delight.

A man of small mercy, the chief saw there standing
not woman with child but the spawn of his foe.
With hate in his eyes and his full strength commanding,
he struck his son’s wife a killing blow.
But as she lay dying, her baby was born,
and the chief raised his knife once again for to kill.
His wife stayed his arm as she shouted with scorn,
O greatest of fools, only look if you will.

They came to us peacefully, empty their hand,
no chance did you give them their tidings to share.
A woman with child, not an enemy band
did you witlessly slay, look again at her there.
Behold one last time your son’s wife in repose,
and think, o great chief, on this thing you have done.
The baby’s eyes opened, his mother’s did close,
and the chief in despair saw the eyes of his son.

Red-brown for the hue of the lovers’ smooth skin,
and golden the color of bright morning light.
Soft green for the future their hearts held within,
and purple for passion of love’s sweet delight.

He turned to his wife. As they faced one another,
the look that she gave him was wild and stiff.
She strode to the side of the girl’s weeping mother,
and wordlessly pointed the way to the cliff,
Then said to her folk in a voice loud and clear,
You know that by birthright I am your true chief.
I say now to all that the war must end here,
for years it has brought us all nothing but grief.

My sister, I’ve tasted the salt of yours tears,
now let us go forth and join your folk to mine.
This day shall unite us and banish our fears,
this baby shall lead us, his birth is a sign.
With two hearts as one the two women prayed long,
then happened this thing to the wonder of all.
Great Spirit did answer, the magic was strong.
The leaves turned that day to the colors of fall.

Red-brown for the hue of the lovers’ smooth skin,
and golden the color of bright morning light.
Soft green for the future their hearts held within,
and purple for passion of love’s sweet delight.
Bright crimson for blood that was shed out of fear,
and gray for the future of life without peace.
The leaves shall remind us in fall of each year
of those who have given so hope will not cease.

 

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