So here we are just two days away from April and we have ten inches of snow in the forecast for Friday into Saturday. It just doesn't seem right, but hey, it's New England. As Yogi Berra would say, "It is what it is".
Life is like that sometimes. No matter what you do I guess there will always be things that do not go as planned. I've been dealing with that a lot lately but hopefully persistence will eventually overcome resistance.
A huge THANK YOU to everyone that came out to our St.Patrick's Day Party at Angela's in Tyngsboro. A special thanks to Kayla and the dancing Leprechauns that joined us on stage for "Sweet Caroline" and "When Irish Eyes are Smiling". You were awesome!
We've added a couple of new show dates to the calendar . We have shows in June at the Country Tavern in Nashua and the 110 Grill in Chelmsford. We are also looking at a couple of new venues in Massachusetts and NH and we will We'll keep you posted on additional dates as they come in. Check the Upcoming Appearances page on the website at HughMcQueen.com. And don't forget, every 2nd and 4th Tuesday of the month we'll be hosting the Open Mic Night at the Hearing Room in Lowell.
It's a great Venue to hear some up and coming local artists and typically I open the shows with a few choice tunes to get the evening started, so check it out at 119 Chelmsford St. in Historic Lowell Ma.
I've been trying to do more song writing lately, Every once in a while ideas will come out of left field that are less than lyrical but still have to be said. Today I thought I would share a sample of such a work in progress. I don't really know if this will ever turn into a song but if it ever does I can pretty much guarantee it will be in a minor key. I welcome your comments in the comment section of the blog or you can message me directly. YOUR FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED .
( no title yet, so this is about a child at the funeral)
I remember the day,
the organ music, the burning incense,
and sermons making little to no sense,
and wishing that I had a better view.
Grey skies at the cemetery
the coldest day in February
thinking to myself that
some sunshine’s long overdue.
Then back at home
I’m coming down the stairs
and all these extra folding chairs
a sea of legs I had to weave on through.
A pile of coats up on my bed
and awkward pats upon my head
from all these strangers
that I barely knew.
As if afraid they’d wake the dead
they mumbled underneath their breath
the awkward, “Sorry for your loss” and
the obligatory, “If there’s anything we can do”.
The smells of whiskey, beer, and cigarettes
lilies, roses and white carnations
And following all condolences and invocations
we passed around the trays of finger sandwiches
I recall the day so well
The sight the sound
the taste the smell
But it’s hard to remember you.