Tag Archives: Johnny Cash

Theme Song Thursday: Thanksgiving Prayer

29 Nov

“I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite – only a sense of existence. Well, anything for variety. I am ready to try this for the next ten thousand years, and exhaust it. How sweet to think of! my extremities well charred, and my intellectual part too, so that there is no danger of worm or rot for a long while. My breath is sweet to me. O how I laugh when I think of my vague indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment.”

― Henry David Thoreau
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Today is a day of thanks. I am grateful for all the wonderful people in my life. I am truly blessed. Miss Della and I shared a wonderful meal with our good friend Miss Eleanor over at Towne Creek Apartments. The food was delightful as was the company.

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And in keeping with the theme song tradition, here is a song by the iconic balladeer, Mr. Johnny Cash.
http://m.youtube.com/watch?autoplay=1&v=vz8zDEmQhfQ&desktop_uri=%252Fwatch%253Fv%253Dvz8zDEmQhfQ%2526autoplay%253D1

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Sunday Morning: Johnny Cash

21 Jul

Do not let Sunday be taken from you. If your soul has no Sunday, it becomes an orphan.
Albert Schweitzer

Poor Johnny Cash. He must have had a few bad Sunday mornings. I’m so thankful that my Sunday’s are always wonderful. Hope yours is too!

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I’d been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.