sings his songs, tells stories,
plays classical guitar
Words to songs: Go to Handfuls of Air
Purchase: Click title
Songs and Stories
Listen to your Children
*Listen to your Children
Mule Skinner Blues
*Mule Skinner Blues
The War God
*The War God
Bonality Breakdown
*Bonality Breakdown
Grendel the Nightmare
*Grendel the Nightmare
I Say I Laugh and Cry
*I Say I Laugh and Cry
Classical Guitar
St. Louie Tickle
*St Louie Tickle
Suite in D minor
*Suite in D minor
Farruca
*Farruca
Sarabande
*Sarabande
Zambra
*Zambra
Winter Song
*Winter Song
World of Guitar: The Complete Collection
Jim Gold
sings his songs, tells stories,
plays classical guitar
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Click on underlined words to hear songs
Songs and Stories
Jim Gold’s World of Guitar
(complete collection)
Listen to your Children
by Jim Gold
Listen to Your Children
Listen to your children!
Do you dare to hear them?
Listen to your children!
Or do you really fear them?
Often they have honesty
In their eyes that glisten.
Oftentimes they tell truth
If you dare to listen.
Do you dare to hear
Their unanswered cries?
Do they have a wisdom,
Despite their age and size?
Often their approaches
Are different from our own.
Do they have an openness
We have long outgrown?
Do they dare to see
What we would see no more?
Do they let the stranger in
While we would shut the door?
Often they will try new things,
Adventurous and bold.
Often they can see a world
Better than the old.
Listen to your children!
Do you dare to hear them?
Listen to your children!
Or do you really fear them?
Often they have honesty
In their eyes that glisten.
Oftentimes they tell truth—
If you dare to listen.
Page 335 in Handfuls of Air
Mule Skinner Blues
Lyrics by Bill Monroe
Good morning captain good morning son
Do you need another mule skinner
Out on your new road line
Well I like to work I’m rolling all the time
Lord I like to work boy I’m rolling all the time
I can pop my initials Right on a mule’s behind
Well it’s hey little water boy bring your water ’round
Lord it’s hey little water boy bring your water ’round
And if you don’t like your job just set that water bucket down
I work out on the new road from a dollar and a dime a day
Lord I work out on the new road I make a dollar and a dime a day
I’ve got three women on Saturday night Waiting to draw my pay
by Jim Gold
The people of the country
Tremble at the name
Of the fire-breathing monster
Spitting balls of flame,
Thunder in the sky.
People shout and run.
Red flames rise—
The monster has come.
Its greenish black belly through the brown earth bores,
Pushing its ashen head through the city floors.
Its roar of open hatred makes every person cower
As it overturns the buildings, the factories and towers.
This fire-breathing madman next to the ocean turns
And, with his lashing legs, kicks out the waves he churns.
The people hide in holes when they see his insane eye,
Bloodshot, as the monster tears a star out of the sky.
His laughter cracks the heavens and opens vaults of land;
His crushing hulk treads on the rocks, turning them to sand;
He howls defiance out at all beauty and splendor,
Roaring out a terrible denial of the tender.
Equally he destroys the weak, the strong, the lame;
Turning them to ashes, he makes them all the same.
He pounds the helpless mountains, kills elephants and flies.
His face reveals no mercy as, around him, people die.
Death and destruction in his mangled brain do sit.
Upon the strong and weak he casts his lethal spit.
He breathes his fire into everything he sees,
Forcing all of Nature down upon her knees.
The people of the country tremble at the name;
The people of the country rupture into flame.
He points his finger at them, and he sends another stroke;
Mothers, fathers, children, all go up in smoke.
Now the monster understands that his desires are fed,
He rolls his eyes insanely backward to his head.
No man remains alive the burning earth to see,
Or hear the fire monster’s ghastly laugh of victory.
Page 299 in Handfuls of Air
by Jim Gold
There lived a musician named Tom Repent
Who didn’t play an instrument
But made the very finest tones
By cracking his neck and snapping his bones.
Every day he practiced scales
From his knee bone to his nails.
Oh, he was sure a sight to see
As he cracked his bones so free.
Chorus
On his tibia and fibula and cranium, yes, he did play—
Occipital, parietal, mandibular, and vertebrae,
Maxillary, zygomatic, cervical, coccygeal,
Clavicle and sacral, lumbar and vestigial.
When he cracked his humerus
His radius was well employed,
Ulna and the phalanges
Sounding with the sesamoid.
Sternum hit a minor chord
As often as the clavicle
Ischium and ileum
Both rattled rhythms radical.
His tibia and fibula
Played marching songs in general
Patella and all cartilage
Together with the femoral.
Pelvic, lumbar, digital,
They almost turned to gelatin;
He was cracking every bone
In his entire skeleton!
First Tom lay down on a mat
And cracked his neck: He got A flat;
Cracked his hips, he got C sharp,
Shoulders jiggling like strings on a harp;
Cracked his knuckles in a way so free
And called the thing “bonality”
Hip bone, ankle bone, loosen when light.
Shoulder bone, neck bone, left arm, right.
That’s the story of Tom Repent
Who didn’t play an instrument
But he made the finest tones
By cracking his neck and snapping his bones.
Every day he’d practice scales
From his knee bone to his nails.
Oh, he was a sight to see
As he cracked his bones so free.
Chorus
Enjoy reading The Art of Bonality (pg. 181) in Handfuls of Air
Last night when I went to sleep,
In my room I heard a creak—
Grendel riding through the door
Riding her nightmare over my floor.
She was a horrible sight to see
Her legs were skinny like those of a flea.
Her mouth looked like an empty pocket.
She had no eyeballs, only sockets.
Her sunken face was all in wrinkles.
When she walked, her bones all tinkled.
She picked me up with much delight
And dropped me in her bag of night.
Then she cackled in my ear,
“Heh, heh, my little one, do not fear.
Mount my nightmare ride with me
Into the world of fantasy.
I will bring you endless dreams,
Dreams of witches, snakes, and screams
Dreams to make your skin turn stiff
Dreams where you fall off a cliff.”
My dream began. I saw my brother;
Then he changed into my mother.
By a leash a rat she led.
It broke away and toward to my bed.
Right across my chest it raced,
Its hairy belly brushed my face,
My mouth was open, the rat jumped in,
And crawled beneath my skin.
Then I felt an awful pain—
The rat was eating up my brain!
I kicked and shouted, “Oh, no more!”
And woke exhausted on the floor.
Grendel travels in disguise.
She stands right here before your eyes,
So do come closer if you dare!
Meet Grendel, the Nightmare!
Page 358
by Jim Gold
There was a maple tree standing all alone,
Standing in my yard where it had always grown.
When I was a boy, beneath the tree I played,
Its branches and its leaves always gave me shade.
For years and years that tree protected me
But when I came to be eighteen, I wanted to be free,
I wantedmost to see the world and set myself afloat
The tree said, “Cut my branches.
My wood will be your boat.”
Chorus
It’s such a long journey from birth to stone.
I’m with you. my friend, and you’re not alone.
I’ve seen many coasts, and I’ve tried to compare
One land to the next as I sailed everywhere—
At loose on the ocean, at loose on the sea.
Sailing on, I forgot my tree.
Then I met my woman, we began to plan
How I’d get myself a job and be a family man.
Returning to my country, I asked, “Where will I live?”
The tree said, “Cut my trunk. My wood to you I’ll give.”
Chorus
Thirty years passed; our children were full grown.
They got married, and went off on their own.
Their kids called me “Grandpa.” Now what would I plan?
I went back to the tree, the place where I began.
I stood before the stump that once had given shade.
I stood before the memory of where I once had played.
I said, “What should I do now? I’ve walked a weary mile.”
The tree said, “Friend, it’s over.
Sit down and rest awhile.”
Chorus
Page 337 in Handfuls of Air
Japanese folk tale
narrated by Jim Gold
by Jim Gold
Enjoy reading the The Art of Bonality (pg. 181) in Handfuls of Air
by Jim Gold
I know where I’m going, I know where I’ve been,
I know what I’m doing, I know what I’m in,
I know what I think and I know what I feel,
I know I can love and I know that I’m real.
One day I realized with a single anxious breath
My life had been completely planned, from birth to death,
By those before me who had thought that I’d look good
Living an intended life that I misunderstood.
I searched in books and music notes;
I asked my friends; poems I wrote,
My search unending, sailed the seas—
But where’er I traveled I came back home to me.
I was my lasting problem, I was my only hope—
To be so lost, to be so blind, to stumble and grope,
To find my way so awkwardly,
And know that what I wanted was all just up to me.
Through fog and pain my roads one lovely morning met.
It was a time that I will not so soon forget.
The troubles on my mind all dwindled down to none.
I opened up my eyes and saw all things as One,
The colors all around me blending into white;
The darkness lifted off me, restoring me my sight;
The waters, mountains, people, flowers
Poured into my soul their mighty powers.
Then a harmony filled my mind.
I felt like a god in heaven sublime.
I accepted my best and also my worst.
I became part of the universe.
I know where I’m going, I know where I’ve been.
I know what I’m doing, I know what I’m in.
I know what I think, and I know what I feel.
I know I can love and I know that I’m real.
Page 339 in Handfuls of Air
Classical Guitar
“St. Louis Tickle” is a ragtime tune composed by Theron C. Bennett. using
the pseudonym Barney & Seymour, in 1904. The same year as the St. Louis World’s Fair.
It gained popularity among pianists and was later arranged for guitar by Dave Van Ronk.
The second strain of the piece is said to be inspired by the song “Funky Butt,”
a signature piece of Buddy Bolden and popular among street musicians.
Jim Gold’s version is played on a classical guitar
made by Jose Rubio.
Composed by Jim Gold in classic suite style
with Allemand, Sarabande, and Gigue
A flamencan dance style known for its strong rhythm and dramatic flair,
it is often associated with virtuosic dance movements and aggressive footwork.
Traditionally performed by men, e farruca is characterized by a four-count rhythm,
a minor key, and a strong emphasis on the first beat.
It’s often described as having a sober, elegant character,
despite its energetic footwork.
A Spanish folk dance,
the Aragonese Jota the best known version.
A lively, energetic dance in 3/4 time, characterized by quick steps, jumps,
and the use of castanets. This Gran Jota was written by
the 19th century Spanish composer and guitarist Francisco Tarrega
Baroque musicians of the 18th century wrote suites of dance music that typically included a sarabande
as the third of four movements. It was often paired with and followed by a jig or gigue.[8] Bach sometimes
gave the sarabande a privileged place in his music. The Sarabande evolved from a Spanish dance
with Arab influences, danced by a lively double line of couples with castanets.[1][2]
The dance seems to have been especially popular in the 16th and 17th centuries, initially in Spain
and in the Spanish colonies. It spread to Italy in the 17th century, and to France,
where it became a slow court dance.[5]
The zambra style of flamenco originated in Granada, Spain.
Inspired by Moorish weddings and dating back
to the 16th century, it is performed barefoot,
with a long skirt and castanets.
Composed by Jim Gold
in rolling arpeggio style depicting the peace
and beauty of winter.
Jim Gold International
Folk Tours Schedule 2025
jimgold.com/folk-tour-schedule-2025/
Jim Gold International
497 Cumberland Avenue, Teaneck, NJ 07666 U.S.A.
web site: www.jimgold.com
Phone: (201) 836-0362
E-mail: jimgold@jimgold.com
