When my morning comes…

Here we are, sat drinking tea and listening to music. Sabbath blessings abound, and outside the foghorns are still sounding on the Clyde.

Specifically we are listening to a CD sent up to us from our old friend and neighbour, Terry. Terry is a lover of Bluegrass music, and regularly digs out music that he thinks I will like-  he is usually right.

This time he sent an old Iris DeMent album- The way I should.

The first track made me cry- it somehow hit the Sunday morning spot. It is saturated with longing and hope- all the more so as it is associated with the kindness of a friend.

See what you think- click here to play

When my mornin’ comes around, no one else will be there
so I won’t have to worry about what I’m supposed to say
and I alone will know that I climbed that great big mountain
and that’s all that will matter when my mornin’ comes around

When my mornin’ comes around, I will look back on this valley
at these sidewalks and alleys where I lingered for so long
and this place where I now live will burn to ash and cinder
like some ghost I won’t remember
When my mornin’ comes around

When my mornin’ comes around, from a new cup I’ll be drinking
and for once I won’t be thinking that there’s something wrong with me
and I’ll wake up and find that my faults have been forgiven
and that’s when I’ll start living
When my mornin’ comes around

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