Dearest Martha, when you find this, there'll be nothing you can do
To change the way our lives have turned out, it's not up to me and you
All the bills are paid through New Years, all the notes are in the drawer
The insurance ought to help, I wish I could have left you more

Now, no one could call me lazy and I know that I ain't dumb
And no one in this valley knew these awful times would come
As the costs keep climbing higher, the prices never rise
While our mouths are filled with questions they just fill our ears with lies

That banker I made wealthy just ten short years ago
Now sits across his pin-striped desk politely saying "No"
Men who've never known a hard time or soiled their soft white hands
Turn farmers into failures and drive us from our lands

In years to come there'll be the stories, such tales they're sure to tell:
"A fourth generation farmer, and he let it go to hell!"
I know that I'm a good man, but I never can forget
There's nothing left to leave the children but a thousand acre debt

But I read it in the papers and I see it on TV
How everything is back on track, what the hell is wrong with me?
I've worked as hard as any man to bring the ground to grain
But each September brings the harvest, the heartache and the blame

So, Martha, lay me in the orchard underneath the flowering plum
And face me to the east so I can see the rising sun
And remember when the days were young and happy ones for me
And the land was ripe with promises as far as I could see

repeat 1st verse

©1986 by John McCutcheon. Published by Appalsongs (ASCAP).

John: vocal and guitar
Tom: harmony vocal and electric guitar
Bobby: saxophone
Michael: bass and harmony vocal

John—Written after Cal Ripken's record-breaking stretch of 2,131 consecutive games on September 6, 1995.

It was one for the ages
You just had to see
So we sat on the couch
My two kids and I
And we watched on TV
It was in the fifth inning
The game it had to be stopped
The whole ballpark went nuts
When the number was dropped
My kids they clapped and they hollered
Me, I choked up with tears
Thinking back on the grace
He brought to that place
For over thirteen years
And as he stood in the spotlight
He looked so awkward and shy
When they asked to say a few words on that day
This was his reply

Chorus

I'm only doing my job
Like folks everywhere
Where I come from
It's just how things are done
Doing my share
I did not love every part
Still I don't think it odd
Give your best
And to hell with the rest
Doin' my job

She gets up every morning
Gets the kids out the door
Then it's carpool and shop
Vacuum and mop
Until they're back home at four
Then it's supper and homework
Until they're all tucked away
It's a kiss and goodnight
And you turn out the light
For the four thousandth day

Chorus

We deliver the mail
We grow all the crops
We teach in the schools, we put out the fires
And we clerk in the shops
We enter the data
We build the bridges and roads
We show up every day
We work for our pay
We carry the loads

Chorus

©1995 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

The weekend following September 11th I played at the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS, as I’ve done for twenty years or more. Without the option of flying, I drove all night that Thursday to make my Friday afternoon and evening performances. When I finally got to my hotel room it was nearly midnight and, like most of the rest of America, I immediately turned on the television. I caught the very end of a prayer vigil in Manhattan. As the credits rolled the camera focused on a small circle of candles left by now-long-gone participants. In the center of this circle of candles was a hand-lettered sign, “Follow the Light Home to Me.” At breakfast the next morning I showed Tom and Michael the first draft of this song. We finished it that afternoon and debuted it that night.

John: vocal & guitar
Tom Chapin: vocal
Michael Mark: vocal
Jon: harmony vocal, piano & organ
JT: harmony vocal & bass
Pete: electric guitar
Jos: drums
Maura: harmony vocals

We were 7 and 8
My sister and I
Lost in the woods
When lightening filled up the sky
As we ran through the ran
We knew where to head
To the light on the porch
“Come home!” like Mama said

Chorus

Follow the light
When you’re lonely and lost
When out on the ocean
You are tumbled and tossed
Follow your heart
Wherever you may be
Follow the light on home to me

Out on the sea
The waves heave and rise
Far from the shore
When a storm mounts the skies
We look for a sign
For some welcoming sight
A beacon from home
To guide us on this night

Chorus

Bridge

There’s a hole in our skyline
There’s a hole in our town
There’s a hole in our hearts
The whole world around
How do we heal?
How do we see
The mercy that shines in you and me?
(We follow the light…)

When the world feels so big
And we seem so small
And you wonder if life
Has any meaning left at all
When you’re losing your heart
When you’re losing the fight
Hold on to my hand
And we will follow the light

©2001 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)
Winfield, KS September 2001