The Mournful Death of Heather Heyer 

Written by Drew Velting 

I’m telling a tale but I’m telling it slanted
It’s a grave and sad story to tell
How I marched with a woman in those same boots of lead And I watched as those protesters fell

And an angry young man without any warning
Mowed her down in his automobile
Hard-hearted, he drove through that crowd at high speed Her labors and youth he did steal 

And fare thee well, Heather Heyer
I ain’t seen your shadow no more
But when I get marchin’ I know you’re beside me
Cause angels are hard to ignore 

Now I've seen Joan of Arc masquerade in that alley
In her black pants and matching black shirt
And blamelessly, not knowing ten steps from then
She’d be lying face down in the dirt 

Heather Heyer had purpose and won’t be forgot
So the theater marquee letters read
While inside her friends and her family, they gathered
To make sense of why she was dead 

And fare thee well, Heather Heyer
I ain’t seen your shadow today
But when that breeze blows in my ears then I know
That you still got something to say 

Oh you senators and congressmen stand here debating Whether statues should stay in the park
Well now ain’t the time for your speeches and sermons
Be the light with us, here in the dark 

And fare thee well, Heather Heyer
I ain’t seen your shadow no more
But when I get marchin’ I know you’re beside me
Cause angels are hard to ignore 

And fare thee well, Heather Heyer
Fare thee well, Heather Heyer
Fare thee well, Heather Heyer
I ain’t seen your shadow no more

Copyright © 2018 by Drew Velting

Touch of Nature

Written by Drew Velting 

I’ve seen black, I’ve seen white
Seen wood crosses burning bright
Struck my head and knocked me down
Then you kicked me on the ground 

You don’t know me or the places that I’ve been
But one touch of nature makes all the world my kin 

I’ve been high, I’ve been low
Crossed the border from Mexico
Worked your fruit trees and your farms
You took my son from his mother’s arms 

You don’t know me or the places that I’ve been
But one touch of nature makes all the world my kin 

I was your East, wandered west
Built your railways, dispossessed
Paid low wages, lived in tents
My noons, my midnights, my immigrants 

You don’t know me or the places that I’ve been
But one touch of nature makes all the world my kin 

I grew pumpkins, beans and corn
Long before you were ever born
You drove me native from my land
My nations torn and stained with sand 

You don’t know me or the places that I’ve been
But one touch of nature makes all the world my kin 

You don’t know me or the places that I’ve been
But one touch of nature makes all the world my kin 

Copyright © 2018 by Drew Velting

I Dreamed I Saw Robert Frost Today

Written by Drew Velting  

I dreamed I saw Robert Frost today
More alive than you or me, I’d say
Standing by some old oak tree
Silent in his sweater
But his winter words come back to me
Deep, dark and lovely, wannabee 

I took my lunch at half past four
And my boots, they’re there by the factory door
Walking toward that old oak tree
Unknown border crossing
Like some dreamer deportee
Deep, dark and lovely, wannabee 

Must’ve walked a quarter mile or so
Woods watching me in the whistling snow
Made it out to the old oak tree
And Robert Frost ain’t there
But I don’t mind this reverie
Deep, dark and lovely, wannabee 

I know this place, I know it well
And that wayward branch and the way you fell
I cut your name in that old oak tree
But that was long before you
Left in springtime’s shadow, how did she?
Deep, dark and lovely, wannabee 

I dreamed I saw Robert Frost today
More alive than you or me, I’d say
Standing by some old oak tree
Silent in his sweater
But his winter words come back to me
Deep, dark and lovely, wannabee 

Copyright © 2018 by Drew Velting

Where Do the Homeless Dwell? 

Words and Music by Drew Velting 

Alice knows that it’s fatal
To look hungry and so alone
In the alleyways and the backstreets
That she’s come to call her home
And at least once a week she won’t cower
A good night’s sleep and a shower
She finds her way to a cheap motel
Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

Johnny served in the Gulf War
But tonight, he’ll rest his head
On the banks of the flood control channel
In that LA riverbed
He still breaches minefields in moonlight
Reaches for his gin and a flashlight
He thinks he’s dead and it’s just as well
Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

Wall Street wonders, like Jacob
Find great riches in bonds and stocks
Now he’s standing in line at a shelter
See him shoeless, in worn-out socks
And with three counts of insider trading
Did his time, but there’s no debating
He’d trade the streets for a prison cell
Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

A drugstore cowgirl, Sweet Sadie
Says it’s likely that she’s still here
But the China white horse that she’s riding
And the scars won’t disappear
She sleeps far from the gutter
Once stole the eyes of her mother
She’s still drawn to that carousel
Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

Who speaks for the vagabond poet?
For the vagrant shades unseen?
Who cares for the waifs and mad drifters?
Or some weathered welfare queen?
And strays pass away into evening
Night claims her tramps; no one’s grieving
But where do they go? Please, pray tell
Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

Ah, where do the homeless dwell? 

Copyright © 2019 by Drew Velting