David Jackson 
Song by Drew Clayton
Lyrics by John Eagle
Mastered by Edro
Video by David Michael Jackson
Old River Stomp 2014 Artvilla.com/The Orchard
Ole River is quiet
Early Saturday morn
The mist is rising
At the break of dawn
With the sounds of the cypress
Whispering in the wind
And the rippling waters
Well, it sounds like a church hymn
The fires are banked high
Like flickering lamps
The morning rite
Begins on another day
Foggy Mountain Breakdown
Plays on the radio
The frogs are burping
In the Ole River way
Chorus
It’s an Ole River morning
The very best kind
The water is waiting
The perch are on the rise
There’s Uncle Joe
He’s the captain of the ship
He wields his jiggin’ pole
Like a buggy whip
His cork disappears
Like acorns in a well
Here’s another fish
And a story to tell
The ice box is filled
Mounting with perch
On Sunday morning
We’ll be singing in church
Night descends
On the Ole River shores
With sounds of frying fish
And slamming screen doors
Chorus
It’s an Ole River morning
The very best kind
The water is waiting
The perch are on the rise
You can’t never tell
When we’ll be back again
But you can just bet
We will see you then
Collection of Faye and Andy Derryberry
We have decided to sell art again at Artvilla.
2014 David Michael Jackson
Schmutt the dog. 1990-2006
Contact artist at editors@artvilla.com
SOLD!
barely avoided Nam
…..such a terrible soldier they didn’t send me…
if they’d have sent me
and told me to
bomb Cambodia,
I’d have probably pressed the button….
they sent someone else….
he pressed it…..
that doesn’t
excuse
me.
I’m sorry.
by Jake Sunflower
Comments by Dandelion De La Rue
Several years ago I was traveling around in Vietnam and somebody dragged me into an art exhibition of photographs of women who’d lost loved ones during the “American War.” It really got to me big time, the sorrow on their faces is still etched onto my brain. I got to the end and burst into tears. The women who worked there were pleased at first, but then I couldn’t shut it off, I sat down and blubbered away for around half an hour, big loud sobs, totally uncontrollable. I went through a box of kleenex. they put a screen in front of me finally, and then after awhile, I slunk out a side door and ran away. I felt so awful, for the immensity of the pain we caused, and the pain we felt on our end too, the young people who died and the sorrow, and the guys who died from Agent Orange and insanity and alcohol and drugs since. and I have to wonder, what would I have done, if I’d been a boy? would I have gone? I don’t know. we were so brainwashed. but that question bothers me sometimes. what would I have done?
