Nomadic tribes a ’wander
Playing notes to make a living
Getting paid by local folks
Who value what they’re giving

No thunderstorms or holidays
Will keep them from their playing
No one night stand can stop them
And convince them that they’re staying

So here’s to all the minstrels
As they’re living out their fate
By day they watch the world fly by
By night they play their date

And here’s to all the families
And to all the time they missed
And all the little babies
That their daddy couldn’t kiss

And on a visit, to a place
To see the ones that wait
The Sirens of the Titans whisper,
“Hurry; don’t be late.”

Once again the time has come
Pack up and kiss your wife
I guess there’s more than one way
That a soul can lead a life

Jeff Burkhart’s “Rhyme & Reason”

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