I play bass in a hobby band with some old friends, the operative word being ‘old’. Years ago we had a young woman singing with us until one day she just pulled up stakes and was gone. We were grateful for her time with us and obviously wished her well, but I couldn’t help thinking there was a song in it. I changed her name to protect the innocent and morphed the ‘band’ into a single old dude, and concocted the tale. Funny how these things work. After trying unsuccessfully to give it a Blue Rodeo vibe (and something our band might play), it sat on the shelf for years. It was only last year as I was gaining confidence with playing chords on piano that this butterfly finally emerged. One of my favourites. Oh, and that young woman went off to start a band with her younger brother and they’re doing just fine. The old boys are still chugging away, too.
Lyrics
She was May and I December, two of us two great pretenders, meetin’ up one summer for a spell / We had traits we each admired, explanation not required, magic only works if no one tells / In back of mind a little voice knew in time she’ll make a choice to go wandering in search of something she’ll soon realize isn’t here / Desirée, you up and left me / Disappeared with no goodbye, was there nothing left for you to say? / Desirée you up and left me, guess you had your reasons why / Still I never dreamed you’d steal away / Well go find your silver linin’ and I’ll find a jug with wine in and I’ll wish you well on your journey, Desirée / We sang songs with harmonizin’, she was easy on the eyes ’n all the boys were dyin' to say hello / But restless hearts are built to wander, she grew one as I grew fonder, even though I'm tryin' not to show / Because in mind that little voice knew in time she’d made her choice to go followin’ the others who’ve already moved on from round here / Desirée you up and left me, disappeared with no goodbye / Was there no one here could make you stay? / Desirée recollect me when the years have passed you by, as the first heart won along your way / A short scene with kindred spirits sealed in a tomb of lyrics / With token bow but no curtsey, still I wish you well on your journey, Desirée