Noble Heart Lyrics
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BRIGHT PATH

©1993 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Dedicated to the man who is worthy of recognition as the twentieth century’s greatest athlete.

Note: Alternate lyrics from the Buckskin Poet Society album, and from the Noble Heart album, are shown in italics.
Narrative is show in Bold.

From the stars a Bright Path came
Leaving behind an infant boy
O’er the waves of the plains
An Indian son did rise
	From the clan of Black Hawk 
	Who survived the U.S. wrath
	They stole the sparkle from his spirit
	Will they give it back
	To Bright Path?

Seasons turned the boy to man
Races run and rivers swam
Footprints in his father’s pace
Through thirty mile days
	In the hunt or in the chase
	Of horses on the range
	Swift and sure, so strong and pure
	They beamed across the plains
	On a Bright Path
 
 		A young heart forged by a native sun
 		Would depart into a world unknown
 		School loomed supreme when the buffalo were gone
 		So across the empty prairies he did go
 		His father said, He said, 
 			“Son, you are a Black Hawk
 			Now, go and show the world what you can do.
 			Go now and show the world what you can do.”
From the hills of Pennsylvania,
Carlisle beckoned to the tribes
Offering an education 
so they could survive
	Jim Thorpe emerged from Bright Path’s shadow
	Leaving home behind
	With his legs and toe he ferried
	Pigskins cross the line
	On a Bright Path
 
On the battle fields of college
Powerhouses came to play
Penn State, Syracuse and Army
There among the fray
	Pop Warner led his Carlisle Redmen
	Through the foes before
	Through his line with flashing thunder
	”Katie bar the door”
	For Bright Path
 
 		When the Earth’s call came for Olympians
 		Jim stood tall, proud to be chosen.
 		The ten-event gold medal was placed upon his chest
 		Our anthem played and U.S. flag unfurled
 		Sweden’s king said, He said, 
 			“Sir, you are the greatest.
 			Yes, you’re the greatest athlete in the world.
 			You are the greatest athlete in the world.”
 
Back in school, with fluid passion
One more season still to play
Jim and Pop’s inspired Redskins
Blew their foes away
	When the gridiron wars were settled,
	Carlisle whipped ‘em all
	Number one in the whole nation
	By the end of fall
	Was Bright Path!
 
		Like a cold blade laid on a beating heart
 		Gloom settled in and then tore apart
 		When news disclosed a teenage Jim was paid in summer leagues
 		They demanded back the medals he received
 		The letter read:     From the AAU it said:
 			“We regret that we allowed Jim Thorpe to compete.
 			We must erase the record of his feats.
 			Yes, we’ll erase the record of his feat.”
 
(Musical interlude)

As a twin sport Pro he traveled
A superstar in perfect grace
Pro football’s first star and founder
Baseball’s happy face
	With the century half over
	A.P. took the vote
	The greatest gridder and best athlete
	It wasn’t even close
	Was Bright Path
 
 		In ’53 Jim’s path joined a brighter sky
 		To the stars he returned as his body died
 		Thirty winters later, justice swung in toil
 		It troubled those whose consciences were soiled.
 		His name restored...
 
 		By 1984 in the summer games in Los Angeles,
 		Jim Thorpe's medals were restored to his family,
 		and his records were restored to the books.
 
From the stars a Bright Path came
Leaving behind an infant boy
O’er the waves of the plains
An Indian son did rise
	From the clan of Black Hawk
	Who survived the U.S. wrath
	They stole the sparkle from his spirit
	Finally gave it back
	To Bright Path!
	To Bright Path!
 
 	To Bright Path!

 

HUDSON BAY BLUES

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

In 1793, the Hudson’s Bay Company established the first trading posts in Blackfeet Indian country.  Life was never the same.

I was riding on my pony hunting bison on the plains
When the moccasin telegraph reported something strange
There was someone building lodges made with stone and logs
They had bushes on their faces and funky looking dogs
	They were loading off big bundles from triple wide canoes
	Full of trading items, out of sight, Creation sang the blues.
	“Tomorrow’s our grand opening. Grab your robes and furs.
	We’ll wheel and deal and feast and drink until you Injuns purr”.

		We didn’t know shopping
		We didn’t go shopping
		We didn’t start shopping
		Till the Hudson’s Bay Company

With horses and dogs all piled high with skins
It was unfamiliar territory we had wandered in
A bushy faced Napikwan (White Man) said, “Sit, we’ll smoke and drink.”
As we prepared our sacred pipe, those Napikwans just winked.
	When the smoke was over, they said, “We’ve got a gift for you
	 That’ll fill your head with visions, Make you strong and happy, too.”
	We didn’t quite know what to think before we drank that rum.
	It was firewater, devil starter, rabbit on the run.

		They got us ready for shopping
		They got us ready for shopping.
		Yeah, we were ready for shopping
		At the Hudson’s Bay Company
			We wanted…
			Flint locks, wool socks,
			Coffee beans, denim jeans,
			Iron awls, musket balls,
			Powder horns and pretty shawls
			Blankets, buttons, bolts of flannel,
			Silver bells and tallow candles,
			Sugar, flour, dark molasses
			Colored beads and looking glasses
			Pale ale, gin and brandy,
			Fine wine and hard rock candy
			Ride through service was... 
			Awful handy!

		We couldn’t stop shopping
		We wouldn't stop shopping
		We couldn’t stop shopping
		At the Hudson’s Bay Company

			Now we’ve got…
			Spandex, gore-tex,
			Nike Airs, gummy bears,
			Ceiling fans, fryin’ pans,
			Turkey, veal, shrimp or Spam
			Sales cycles, sports rackets,
			Roller blades and team jackets.
			Keyboards to surf the net on a tidal wave of debt
			MasterCard, Visa Card,
			Christopher Columbus Card
			American Express, Oh Lord,
			Every kind of card.

		Oh, we can’t stop shopping
		We can’t stop shopping
		We can’t stop shopping
		At the Hudson’s Bay Company.

		Oh, we can’t stop shopping
		We can’t stop shopping
		We can’t stop shopping
		At the Hudson’s Bay Company.

 

NAVAJO CODE TALKERS

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Dedicated to the largely unsung heroes of the Pacific Theater during World War II

On December 7th of '41, the Japanese struck our shore
The tentacles of the Axis powers had pulled this land to war
Down in the mile-high western desert, homeland to the Navajo
Marines were lookin’ for a few good men to go…
 
In the hot dry southwestern sun the volunteers took the oath
To defend this U.S. soil though none of them could vote
From their mother tongue they were told to devise a code
That they alone, the Navajo, would know.
 
 	Code Talkers, 
 		communicating freely through the hot fire of tyranny
 	Code Talkers, 
 		sending and receiving combat orders for our military
 	Kit Carson pillaged their homes in '64
 	For the nation who now called their men to war.
 
As the pain shimmered in the elders' eyes, the bitterness swept aside
To see their young sons join the ranks of the stars and stripes
From Guadalcanal to Okinawa their weapon was their speech
That the Church and boarding schools refused to teach.
 
 	Code Talkers, 
 		communicating freely through the hot fire of tyranny
 	Code Talkers, 
 		sending and receiving combat orders for our military
 	Kit Carson pillaged their homes in '64
 	For the nation who now called her men to war

Changing Woman Suite

In the beginning 
First Man and First Woman lived as one,
The first couple forged the Sun
And the moon was formed from rock crystal, 
Mystery filled the Earth before darkness fled the dawn 
 	In a cradleboard of sunrays and rainbows came a girl
 	She nursed on dew and pollen from her mom
 
 		Changing Woman, 
 		the earth’s most beautiful one
 		Changing Woman, 
 		who created everyone
 		From sacred cornmeal and the flesh from her own skin
 		The People came to be called Dineh
 
  ‘Twas born twin heroes, 
  Monster Slayer and Child Born of Water
  They liberated everyone.
  They roamed the earth hunting down the monster foes
  Till there was peace – Hozho
 
  		From sacred cornmeal and the flesh, from her own skin
  		The People came to be called Dineh
 
  		The People came to be called Dineh

CODE TALKERS

So lonigo do na dal hal (s) be kad
 No dabi shi dah cah yeh hesh shush
  wola chee moasi lin yeh hesh
 (Many) stars and stripes on (Mount) Suribachi
 (snake Ute rabbit itch bear ant cat horse itch)
 I am a Navajo Code Talker

 

On the killing sands of Iwo Jima, Navajo teams worked round the clock
Our Marines were pinned down on the beach by gunners trenched in rock
The strikes that turned the battle’s tide were signaled by the tribe
Whose mother tongue and spirit had survived.
 
 	Code Talkers, 
 		communicating freely through the hot fire of tyranny
 	Code Talkers, 
 		sending and receiving combat orders for our military
 	Kit Carson pillaged their homes in '64
 	For the nation who now called her men to war
 	Code Talkers
 
 	Code Talkers!
 
 			We are the Navajo Code Talkers
 			So long!

 

NOBLE HEART

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Based on the traditional Blackfeet myth of Poia, who ventures to the Lodge of the Sun to win the love of a girl.

With the sunrise, 
there’s a path that must be taken
To the One, who turns each and every day 
With a heart, that beats in hope and wonder
As patient faith marks the way.

	To follow the trail to the Lodge of the Sun
	The perils are many
	Till her love is won
	There’re turbulent rivers
	There’re cliffs on Divide
	But there’s nowhere one can hide
	When a Noble Heart decides.

We’ve been scarred by the storm
And the pain from past rejection
Pride survives, by running from new love
But the whisper inside, while soft, does not disappear
It calls to the starlight above.

	To follow the trail to the Lodge of the Sun
	The perils are many
	Till true love is won
	When out of the mountains
	I’ll cross the plateau
	As autumn swirls to snow
	Is where a Noble Heart will go.

		I see the Sun set again on my quest
		I hear the owl sing my name
		Though I feel the cold take it’s toll upon my flesh
		Faith rises with dawn
		To rekindle the flame.
	So I can follow the trail to the Lodge of the Sun
	The perils are many
	Till her love is won
	There’re turbulent rivers
	There’re cliffs on Divide
	But there’s nowhere one can hide
	When a Noble Heart...

	Follows the trail to the Lodge of the Sun
	The trials are many
	Till true love is won
	I'll follow the river that runs to the sea
	Till the surf rolls into view

	It's what a Noble Heart will do...


SHADOW OF THE MOON

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

In the early days before the climb 
We were spinning towards beginning time
This was long before the great ascent
Up the Big Divide where our hopes were sent

	Back when I walked with you
	Back when I talked with you
	Back when I spun some thoughts with you
	Together we went swirlin’ into swoon
		With the Shadow of the Moon
	Oh how you loved me round the clock till noon
		With the Shadow of the Moon

	Maybe someday you’ll return, I hope it’s soon.
		With the Shadow of the Moon

Girl, the love we knew was straight and true
Makes it hard to leave and try to start anew
I range between feelin’ blue and sad
And I cry alone for at myself I’m mad

	I want to walk with you
	I want to talk with you
	I have far too many thoughts of you
	The Sun is out, but the rain won’t let it through
		In the Shadow of the Moon
	The strings that bridge the heart are out of tune
		In the Shadow of the Moon

	My heart’s open, hopin’ you will fill the room
		With the Shadow of the Moon

			With the starlight 
			from a constellation
			We’ll reignite 
			the love that we’ve been wasting.

	I want to walk with you
	I want to talk with you
	I want to spin some thoughts with you
	Together we’ll go swirlin’ into swoon
		In the Shadow of the Moon
	I will love you round the clock till noon
		In the Shadow of the moon
	My heart’s open, hopin’ you will fill the room
		With the Shadow of the Moon ...

		In the Shadow of the Moon

			By the Shadow of the Moon...

 

OLD GLAD

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

In 1848, my great, great grandfather, William Gladstone came into Blackfeet country with the Hudson’s Bay Company.  In 1855, William took a Native wife and became a freelance carpenter and blacksmith working on Ft. Benton, Montana and Ft. Whoop Up and Ft. McLeod, Alberta.  He settled in Pincher Creek, building the first sawmill in southern Alberta.  He became known affectionately (I think) as Old Glad.

When William first came to this valley
There were stands of mountain spruce
The land laid smooth and whispered low
Through bears, wolves, elk and moose.

Then William could not leave this valley
For his life had lost the chill
That en-journeys one to leave the plains
And head out for the hills
	And now what would make you wonder
	What would roll you in your grave
	If you heard the ends they have in plan?
	On the land your name they gave

		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the grizzlies and the watersheds
		For the visions of our dads
		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the last few stands of wilderness
		And the promise you once had

He logged the trees in this valley
When timber pulled with gentle ease
With their strong horse teams
And men who steamed all day on bread and beans
But never once did they rape this valley
The green slopes they left undone
And where on behind the valley would wind
There still remained the young.
	And now what would make you wonder
	What would roll you in your grave
	If you saw the ends they have in plan
	On the land your name they gave

		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the grizzlies and the watersheds
		For the visions of our dads
		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the last few stands of wilderness
		And the promise you still have

		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the grizzlies and the watersheds
		For the visions of our dad
		Old Glad, Old Glad
		For the last few stands of wilderness
		And the promise you still have

 

OLD MEADOW HIGHTREE

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Dedicated to the child within and the vantage point of a tree.

Way off in a meadowland there stands a lonesome high tree
I’d climb and view the scenery as far as I could see
Caught by some ancestry, I didn’t realize then
I was just a wanderin’ lad out climbin’ the big tree.

Simple as my life was then as far as the horizon
My dreams would drift and lift like clouds into a clear blue sky
I don’t recall the who or when, but age does the disguising
Of well intended dreamers telling visions not to lie.

	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I could feel nature’s soul
	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I would watch the pastureland unfold
	While my world revolved slowly 
	When I was only five years old.

I think it was that space between that time and higher learning
That I took the pen and pad to marks that don’t erase
But my frequent bad mistakes soon led me to a turning 
To pencils with erasers, hell, I buy them by the case!

	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I could see nature’s soul
	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I could feel the winter’s breath turn cold
	And my world evolved swiftly
	When I became seventeen years old.

		A woman came to know my heart
		I had not known love before
		Boyhood vanished in the part
		Was beneath that meadow Hightree
		That she set my soul free.  But

		She did not stay around
		She said she had her place back in the town
		I said I’ll never leave my Old Meadow Hightree
		For you or any other love I’ve found
		A dreamer’s heels never touch the ground.
Way off in a meadowland there stands a lonesome high tree
I climb and view the scenery as far as I can see
Caught by some ancestry or maybe I’m just crazy
I am just a wanderin’ man out climbin’ a big tree.

	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I can feel nature’s soul
	In the Old Meadow Hightree
	I can watch a dreamer’s life unfold
	While my words whisper softly
	Past lips of a thirty-eight year old.

 

OLD SHEP

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Between August 1936 and January 1942, an amazing vigil was kept by a canine for his best friend who had departed to the other world.  This story illuminates friendship, patience and loyalty.

Not so long ago outside of Fort Benton
Was a tale born of a faithful friend
As the train pulled away from the station
With the body of an old shepherd man
	Through his final years on these Montana plains
	Over pasture and highland, through hard summer rains.

		Old Shep, ran beside him
		Tending the flocks, patrolling the range
		Old Shep, slept beside him
		Ever alert if the silence did change
		A thousand sunrises were met
		With Old Shep.

The fall came, the light grew dimmer
For the Shepherd man when he reached the town
And Old Shep could sense there would be a long journey
To a meadow space where peace is found.
	Down in a bed in Fort Benton he lay
	His spirit departed but his body stayed.

		Old Shep, walked beside him
		As they carried his casket up to the train
		Old Shep, tried to climb on board
		But they pushed him away to the station platform.
		Here a separate trail was met
		By Old Shep

			How many nights, how many days
			Would your partner wait for you?
			How many seasons would you weather the storm
			If your companion was long overdue?
For over six snows Old Shep waited
And through five springs, there was no return
He met each train that rolled into the station
His faith remained, his candle burned.
	Then, on a cold, dark, winter day
	Our hero rejoined his best friend.

		Now, Old Shep is beside him
		Tending the heavens, patrolling the range
		Old Shep stays beside him
		As the seasons revolve this Big Sky of change
		A faithful friend we won’t forget

		Old Shep, runs beside him
		Tending the heavens, patrolling the range
		Old Shep, sleeps beside him
		As the seasons revolve this Big Sky of change

		A friend we won’t forget
		Old Shep
   		Old Shep

     		Old Shep

 

OW, THAT’S HOT

©1995 Jack W. Gladstone, and Vincent Scott, Glacier Pacific Publishing/BMI

Imagine a foolish bear, in a quest for a spotted coat, dancing and singing around a hot, crackling fire.  The results were not what he expected.

Ow, That’s Hot!  
I didn’t think it would hurt so much
For a white spot coat, those sparks come awful close
Ow, That’s Hot!  
And oh how it does burn
For a white spot coat, then fire...
Maybe I should turn.

	I will soon be looking sweet, 
	like the baby fawn
	So I’ll just keep on dancing 
	until those spots are on.

Ow, That’s Hot!  
I didn’t think it would hurt so much
For a white spot coat, those sparks come awful close
Ow, That’s Hot, 
And oh, how it does burn
For a white spot coat, then fire...
Maybe I should turn.

	I will soon be looking great, 
	like the spotted deer
	If I don’t scorch my belly, 
	like I just scorched my rear.

Ow, That’s Hot!  
I think I’ll change my mind
This white spot coat has turned to quite unkind
Ouch, that smarts!  
And not even one spot
I dislike this shake ‘n bake, ‘cause 
That fire’s hot!
That fire’s hot!

That fire’s hot!

That fire’s hot!

 

PRAY FOR THE MOTHER

©1995 Christian Johnson,  Jack W. Gladstone, Cat and Fiddle Publishing/BMI

 Dedicated to the feminine character and principle inherent in creation

Pray for the Mother
Sleep by her side
Dream with the others
She calls from inside
 
We are the elders
Our children will be
Heir to this earth home
We leave our legacy.
 
 	Can you feel the rainbow fading?
 	Can you hear the forest cry?
 	Can you sense the circle bleeding?
 	Can you sit and watch her die?
 
Pray for Our Mother
The Father’s within
Whole is our being
What was is again
 
 	Ask your soul, the heart can reach it
 	Lest you pass without a try
 	Every child will live the answer
 	Every child will wonder why
 	We can feel the rainbows fading
 	We can hear the woodlands cry
 	We can sense the circle bleeding
 	We awaken by her side.
 
 Pray for Our Mother
 Sleep by her side
 Dream with the others
 She calls from inside
 She calls from inside
 
 Pray for the Mother
 
 Pray for Our Mother...
 


 

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HAWKSTONE PRODUCTIONS
All Rights Reserved