Revised:
The Serenade
Raised, like so many of my generation,
on our fathers’ Leonard Cohen,
I’ve wrestled and I’ve tumbled
for nigh on too many years
with the query the conundrum:
If it matters which you heard,
the broken or the holy
Hallelujah.
They say, behind my back,
and round about the alleyways,
that I’m not somebody who’s seen the Light!
Just a clod screaming against the dark,
looking high and low and sideways
for a place to rest my very lonely plight.
Could be, could be, and gather round;
could be, should be, and drink it down;
I didn’t come to fool yuh!,
just to stretch my limbs, feel the air,
and to try talk’in withyuh.
So help me, so help us,
come on, come on, let’s stay together.
AMW/BW
Original:
Raised, like so many of my generation,
on our fathers’ Leonard Cohen,
I’ve wrestled and I’ve wrangled
for nigh on too many years
with the query and conundrum
of whether it matters or not
which you heard:
the holy, or the broken
Hallelujah.
They say, behind my back,
and round about the alleyways,
that I’m not somebody who’s seen the Light!
Just a clod screaming against the dark,
looking high and low and sideways
for a place to rest my very lonely plight.
Could be, could be, and gather round;
could be, could be, and drink it down;
I didn’t come to fool yuh!,
just to cross my legs and feel the air,
and try to talk somethin to yuh.
So help me, so help us,
come on, come on, let’s stay together.
AMW/BW
