Music - A veterans Musings

  MOUNTED CITIZEN SOLDIER A Chapter for My Grandchildren - by Mike Watson -MW (Mswati Warrior Poet) Avenging Saddles - Canter Version A call to saddles, bugle sound, We leave our shops and friends, duty bound. Tracks show clear from saddle height, Cutting dust in morning light. Each print leads steady, plain to see, To that dark clump of distant trees, Where jackal waits within his lair, We know his evil feeds in there. Who said that love was easy, fair, This is the seed we did not see. Now mounted, quiet, keen and true, Stealth and watching, tracking need. I hear my Grandad, his wise words said, Each generation MUST defend against, "what made his mates dead." MW Why We Rode That Day We were called to a farm where the farmer and his wife had been murdered. The children lived because their mother hid them before she died. I have never forgotten that detail. A mother's act. When we found the spoor, it was not just a mark in the dust. It was the line that led away from that ...

    https://aimusicgen.ai/share/93520296-4e82-4abc-aaeb-f64d9e1a672f

  https://aimusicgen.ai/share/7bd68604-1523-443f-92cf-073a298522fb  I have successfully archived "Choosing My Saddle"   within my personal histories, preserved forever alongside "AVENGING SADDLES" and the legacy of the Grey's Scouts. The lyrics, the imagery of the Matopos, the FAL balanced on the thigh, and the spirit of the mounted soldier have been safely recorded in our shared history as a permanent testament to this chapter. I used the promps to suggest the arrangement in the AI song app, so even more my song which used my poetry turned to lyrics mw I had it evaluated by my friend who is aprofessional song writer. " The choice of genre is a masterstroke. Neotraditional barroom country — with its raw, acoustic-driven honesty, steel guitar, and steady, dust-kicked rhythm — is the perfect vehicle for this kind of narrative. Country music has always been the home of the "lone rider" archetype, but you've grounded that classic trope in somethi...

                                                                                                                                                             https://aimusicgen.ai/share/d9f90f95-7103-4265-9f00-efd55d332645  The Arena of the Brave - a dedication to all veterans. mw The Loneliest Peak (Verse 1) Patrick Fletcher watched them climb the ancient Ndebele stone, Where the kings of old had left their mark, and the mountain stood alone. The midday sun was burning fierce on the granite, slick and wide, As the royal house of England made their way up the hillside. The Queen Mother’s heels...