Author’s note: A little whimsy, completed, so I’ll avoid the holiday rush and move on to something else. Happy New Year! A.S. 

IS TOMORROW JUST another day, or

spring-loaded in a Swiss-watch way,

to shoot us through the bitter year,

dog days of summer, rain, clear,

into another autumn fall,

death in winter

I’ll recall,





the sun

will shine

again I bet

and I again

will laugh aloud

ride a bike, hike in clouds

write a song ears won’t hear

write a book that touches dear

The most primal revelations – fear.

Swim in waves of cold rejections, in left-handed presentation

“love the story not the writing,” “the writing’s good the story’s lacking.”

My pessimism isn’t real — I say — but I’m far too deep to grant appeal

I’m blessed beyond the average man so I’ll keep on slinging ink my friend.

© 2014


PART MY PREVIOUS LIFE as a sportswriter included the coverage of five consecutive bowl games, all but one played just after Christmas. I was always expected to arrive five days before kickoff, along with the team, for in-depth coverage. This song emerged from that scenario. Hope your holidays are going well. A.S.

WELL I found myself so far from home on another Christmas day,

I don’t blame you girl for wishing that my job would go away.

But I cannot change the present and the past is here to stay,

And the Crown I drink to soothe my mind is adding to a fray.

They say absence makes us fonder, but a week can turn the tide,

When a grudge is growing faster than the plane I finally ride.

And ice can’t melt away without some warmth on either side,

So come closer to me darling let me show what’s on my mind.


Let’s get cozy, turn down the lights.

Lay your head upon my shoulder, cause I want to make it right.

Let’s get cozy, there’s no need to fight.

We can grow old together if we make it through this night.

Well the right words they come difficult when the pressure’s really on,

And the wrong words are a river cutting deep and wide and strong.

While bitter, angry words will often damage, hurt or scar,

The rendezvous I have in mind is sure to make you smile.


So let’s get cozy, get the music right.

Let me stoke the fire up baby, cause I want it hot tonight.

Let’s get cozy, it’s you and me tonight,

Let love earn the victory, and pleasure rule the night.


Well you’ve got to know my love is not a passing thing,

And circumstance it sometimes rules the world.

I’ll never be away unless I truly have to be,

And coming home should always be a thrill…


So let’s get cozy, where’s those bedroom eyes?

If it’s wrong to want you baby, then I don’t want to be alive.

Let’s get cozy, I’ll tuck you in just fine.

Let’s make some time up baby ’fore the sun invades the night.

Let’s make some time up baby ’fore the sun invades the night.

©1999  Andrew Spradling

Tis The Season

USS Lakewood

Blogging was paused a few weeks ago by an idea – not mine, my lovely, thoughtful wife’s and the leaders of our Lakewood Elementary School, which is anchored in excellence — to create a ship, the U.S.S. Lakewood, the idea behind it, to sink the ship with packages and presents for families in need this holiday season. With its meaning in mind and music drifting through the cold air I joyfully sawed, hammered, and painted, hoping that the project’s flaws and unsmooth edges would be overlooked.

As usual, our Lakewood community – and our friends, relatives and even some businesses — responded generously and whole-heartedly. So much so that Lakewood was able to provide not only for its own in need, but families in at least three other elementary schools, including Bridgeview, in Spring Hill. It so touches my heart when the goodness in others is visible. And my eyes fill when I imagine a child opening a gift. When I think of giving, I’m reminded of the widow’s offering, that in her pennies she had given everything she had, and it was recognized by Jesus.

Peace and Love this Christmas season.

Andrew Spradling

© 2014

The Maze

Author’s Note: One of the aspects of song writing I enjoy is the freedom to borrow someone else’s life for a theme, or, better still, a blending of stories and emotions. A small percentage of this has anything to do with me. This is another fast-paced song. I plan to one day have links to the music, I’m just looking for the right accompaniment. A.S.

SUBMERGED in the passion of the eyes that look upon me

with a love that lasts forever, and forsaken by no other,

Till you go away and figure out that, men will kiss the ground you walk on.

I have done the same but they are happy, strong, and rich and famous.

Now you want to be alone and search the world for something better,

I will gladly let you go ’cause misery kept is bound to fester.

But I wish you’d known me when, I was young and couldn’t bend,

love was free and easy then, but time moves on and now feel I’m…

Long past being pretty, I’m long past being what I was,

time can change the way you stand, but it cannot break the willful man

So be the girl you want to be, see the things you long to see,

travel roads and burn the bridges, fan the flames that whisper “set me free…. ,”

We travel mazes, to pass through doors.

And we don’t know the meaning of compromise.

We want a prize that begins with trust.

But we’ve never paid the price.

Submerged in the sorrow of a wife who seeks another,

a future black as coal, and a love that won’t recover.

So take the door, take the train, leave as fast as you can leave,

we’ll be like all the others, take the easy way, and give up on our dreams… .

We stumble through mazes, to pass through doors.

And we don’t know the meaning of compromise.

We want a prize that begins with trust.

But we’ve never paid the price.

© 2004 Andrew Spradling

Thank You For The Memory

Author’s Note: This little song has a beat as fast as fence posts on the highway viewed from a speeding truck, but it slows for the last two verses. Written when I was just twenty-one or so, it has no illusions or metaphors, just sledge-hammer-like honesty. A.S.

WELL days have passed, they seem like years,

But the time has come for us to be together.

Though the obstacles grow greater,

the hurdles higher, I will find a way my love.


And they say that it’s not wise,

To quit my job and head to Carolina.

My strength grows from my love for you,

And it spurs my courage higher than the mountain top.


Well lately I have felt the things:

the heart, the mind, the soul that makes me want you so.

And in my dreams I see you,

Hold me, love me, need me darling to the end.


And the time has come to say good-bye,

To all the things I love in West Virginia…

It’s almost heaven where I stand,

But paradise awaits me darling at your home.


Well misty-eyed am I to leave,

But understand that home is where the heart is.

And though my time is occupied,

My heart longs for the closeness only we have shared.


Well days have passed so quickly now,

And the space between us grows more every day.

And soon I’ll be a memory,

a distant, far off symbol of summer love.


Well the times we had were special,

But a year has passed and we are growing older.

And I thank you for the memory,

And I’m sorry girl if I hurt you in any way…



©1985 Andrew Spradling

Eddie’s Song

Author’s note: Another song, this one in honor of yesterday and the event at New York’s Central Park. A.S.


In this life it’s easy for a friend to slip away,

Even though it’s a crying shame.

A card, a letter, man, just a simple phone call,

Always means so much to me.


And if you fall my friend, well I’ll be right there and I’ll try to catch you.

No matter where I am right now.

And if it’s family Lord, and you’re in trouble,

I’ll be right by your side.


Eddie was a good man through and through,

A kinder man was hard to find.

He left his hometown for a city, oh so far away,

Another artist gets his way.


His parents, sisters, brother, they all really missed him badly.

And they longed for his returns.

And his visits home were always a great occasion,

They really loved him so.


Well many years went by, and his life went on,

But true happiness was never found.

And like so many, his health struck him down…

The cure was never found.




To die alone in some dingy semi-private,

On the bad side of town.

His mother and a niece were the only ones to come and bid farewell.


The family that he knew, they coward from the germs that killed him,

Though they knew they were immune.

Maybe they were just too busy, maybe they were just too dizzy,

Anyway, they did not come.


I don’t think the tears they shed were really painted,

And I think that their sorrow was true,

But were they shameless Lord, or simply simple,

Or is fashion a clue.


If you’re out there Lord, if you really hear.

Would you lend an ear to this one prayer…

If it takes me months to die, tell my loved ones please don’t cry,

Be brave and come and say good-bye before I die…


© 1989 Andrew Spradling