Oldan Blue

 

Oldan Blue

 

Oldan Blue was nearly seventy,

And he would play guitar for you.

Oldan Blue is getting up there,

And music was all he ever knew.

 

Oldan Blue was always travellin’ round,

He would sit down anywhere to play.

Oldan Blue would play his blues harp,

And make the dark feel like day.

 

And the people would gather to him,

To wash away their daily plight.

And the children would then dance,

And forget it was night.

 

Now Oldan Blue will play piano,

Sounding like a chuckling stream.

And Oldan Blue will play his trumpet,

Dissipate fear into faded dream.

 

And the people gather to him,

And fret not the tyrant’s fight.

And the children get up and dance,

And forget that it is night.

 

Oldan Blue is a drummer,

He pounds out what he cannot say.

Oldan Blue makes his music

To chase the people’s cares away.

 

Oldan Blue plays in defiance

Of the rich man’s miserly bite.

And the children still get up and dance,

And forget that it is night.

 

Oldan Blue, he is somewhere nearby,

With his guitar and harp for you.

A music man beneath these dark skies,

Listen for the song of Oldan Blue.

 

So people, gather to him,

Wash away your daily plight.

And the children can get up and dance,

And forget that it is night.

 

Just sit quiet for a few,

Listen for the song of Oldan Blue.

What better thing have you to do?

Listen for the song of Oldan Blue.

Let the music refresh anew,

Listen for the song of Oldan Blue.

Where the music can take you,

Listen for the song of Oldan Blue.

 

Cliff Lake 3/25/2026

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2026