ALL IN A DREAM


  They call me old Dan tucker, jack of all trades,

  There's a lot of love of the common people, we are 
  Alive.
  I didn't see the light of day for a while, as I was 
  Shackled and drawn,
  This depression was getting to me, as each day was a 
  Lonesome day.
  Life itself is a blessing, but I need something to lift
  Me up,
   My family is missing, and my hometown burned to 
  The ground.
  I told my wife just recently, O' Mary don't you weep,

  We shall overcome, we'll find our paradise.

  With a wizards magic, we left this horrible Kingdom 
  Of days,
  We wouldn't be the last to die, as we were sent through 
  Time into the future.
   We found our lucky town, now my Oklahoma home,

  I'm going down to a place called the pony boy, that's 
  Open all night.
   It'll be a long walk home, but i'm on fire with energy,

  With this little light of mine, I walked in the dark.

  I went in places to drink, one called i'm a rocker,

  Jacob's ladder, and ramrod.

  I met someone who said, she was the queen of the 
  supermarket,
  Strange, as it was all in a dream.

                                     Keith Garrett

                      A DAY WITHOUT SYMPATHY
  I awoke in the morning, I fell out of bed,

  A bad headache, but no aspirin for my head.

  I went for a cup of coffee, but only an empty jar,

  Maybe some toast, but the butter was at the store.

  I went to get the paper, in a puddle of mud,

  The dog chewed up my shoes, what am I to do.

  Got dressed and headed for the car, off to work I'll go,

  The car wasn't there, stolen wouldn't you know.

  Went to call the police, locked myself out of the house,

  Headed for the bus stop, watched the bus drive on by.

  I flagged down a cab, please get me to work,

  No wallet in my pocket, I gave him my watch.

  I walked through the door, fearing I was so late,

  This is your day off, you don't work today.

  No way home, so I put out my thumb,

  No one would stop, I walked all the way.

  I had not a key, Oh! what a day,

  I broke the window, the door was open all the way.

  My T.V. was gone, the phone did not work,

   Nothing to eat, time for some sleep.

   I went to my room, the bed was gone,

  A day without sympathy, on the floor I did lay.


                       Keith Garrett

                                            YOU WERE MOM


  I can't quite remember when I first opened my eyes,


  From that moment you were always by my side, mother 
  Of mine.

  You held me when I was hungry, fed me as I drifted 
  Back to sleep,

  Made me feel secure, washed me and made sure I was 
  Always clean.

  When I woke from a scary dream, it was you who took 
  Away my fearful screams,

  You were there when I was down, near and always around, 
  You were mom.

  You taught me about the things that I should know, about 
  The world as I would grow,

  You were a friend, companion, but most of all, you were 
  My mother, you were mom.

  Memories I will never forget, I would trade them all for one
   More day, you went away,

  I will see you again in a different kind of land, you were mom, 
  Thanks for all that you were.
   Happy Mother's Day, in heaven, you rest.  

                                  Keith

                            ABOVE THE WAVE


  Out on the horizon, beneath the sinking sun, It rolls In,


  They all come to watch, they come to ride the wild surf.


  For the true surfer, It comes from within, at one with 
  The wave,

  Shooting the tube, living on the edge, free to glide across 
  The water.

  From Australia, the split, surfers' paradise, they battle the 
  Rolling storm,

  To Hawaii, waimea Bay, North Shore, Pipeline, or Hanalei Bay, 
  The wave.

  Above the wave where dreams' are made, surf the open 
  Waterway,

  Around the world, beyond the shores of Peru to New Zealand,
  Ride.

  Above the wave, beneath the wide open sky, forever ride,


  Touch the water, and listen to the sound of the crashing waves.


                                        Keith Garrett

                                 1943 NICKEL


  A nickel I came upon, old is its age,


  Dirty and worn, 1943 had a name.


  When it was made, which first pocket did hold,


  A celebrity of movies, or a farmer tired at night.


  Could it have been the great Joe Dimaggio, 


  As time went by, possibly a singer or olympian.


  A little boy had a nickel in his pocket, grew did he,


  A famous writer he became, a 1943 nickel, where 
  Could it be?

  Beyond seventy years, this silver looking coin has 
  Traveled,

  Today it rests with me, who held onto it in 1943?

      Keith Garrett

                             ACROSS THE DESERT, I TRAVEL


  My  challenge this day, a trek across the always 
  dangerous desert,

  Pack my things, just myself and a backpack, complete 
  With all I need.

  Dressed In jeans, hiking boots, long sleeved shirt, and hat, 
  I am ready,

  Early morning, as the rising sun stares down upon me, 
  Time to move.

  Such a feeling, to seem alone In the world, step by step 
  Through the quiet

  Morning, while nature does Its own thing, I am watched 
  As I walk.

  Across the desert I travel, with a breeze swirling around 
  What surrounds,

  The heat of the day has not yet arrived, as I continue my 
  Quest through the desert land.

  So much beautiful and unusual plant life, animals seen 
  From a distance,

  The sun Is moving, day Is disappearing, with shadows 
  Forming upon this land.

  I'll soon make camp with the animals of the night, a fire 
  so bright,  warm with light,

  When the morning comes, then I will continue my journey
  Until I am done,

  Across the desert I travel.


                                                       Keith Garrett 

                          ABOUT THIS PICTURE


  This is what you see, a man standing there,





  With a microphone in his hand, singing out celtic songs.





   Dressed partly in green with expression and thought,





   Bruce Springsteen is his name, many things he's about.





  There's emotion that comes from a musical spirit,





   Look at his face, what do you see?


                                        Keith Garrett

                                   A WESTERN SCENE


  They stood alone but together, gunfighters so mean,



  A battle on a dirty street, a ghost town today, of 
  Memories,


  A western scene where  dance hall girls entertain 
  Gamblers so drunk,

  Outlaws who do rob and kill, will one day have their 
  Walk to the gallows.


  There is a ranch out beyond where a town sits, cowboys 
   whom once rode,


  There was a time when laws were different, justice could 
  Be a swift act.


  Bounty hunters tracked down fugitives, who escaped and 
  Ran from the law,


  A western scene, where a family worked hard for a farm, 
  For their dream.
                  Keith Garrett

                                      A WAND OF MAGIC

  In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,


  Not even a word and crime would disappear.


  I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,


  Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.


  Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,


  The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.


  I could run fast or jump high,


  A tear would be one less for all of mankind.


  The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,


   With a wave from my hand, this would end.


   A wand of magic, need not be that of evil,


  For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.


  A wand of magic is not to be real,


  We can wish, hope, and pray, that it all goes away.

                Keith Garrett                                                     

                                           ADRIFT AT SEA


   No memory have I of how this came to be,


   Lost and alone, just me and the sea.


   Day after day, across endless water,


   Above only the sky and the seagulls that fly.


   Get by do I with only little water and food,


   Maybe a hope and a prayer that it may get me 
  Through.

  In the distance, perhaps a dolphin or whale,


  My imagination is running wild.


  Thinking of what's below me, scares me some,


  Loneliness is worse, fore nobody listens.


  A dream am I having, or my personal hell,


  Until the end of this, i'll not be able to tell.


  Up ahead, what is it that I see,


   My hope and prayer is answered to me,


   No longer will i be, adrift at sea.

                                      Keith Garrett