(Verse 1 - The Children)
On the sagging porch swing where the wind moves slow,
His beadwork jacket hangs where the cold drafts go.
There’s a powwow drum tucked up in the attic light,
And a tin coffee cup that still wears his bite.
Chantelle folds the letter with hands that still shake,
Charlie traces the grooves in the old board seat brake.
Morgan hums the chorus he taught by the fire,
Courtney lights a candle and breathes through the wire.
(Chorus - Together, addressing Dad)
Oh father, hear this lonesome cry,
Chantelle and Charlie dry their eyes.
Morgan and Courtney feel the ache you left below,
Four children hold your name where the cold winds blow.
Your drumbeat keeps the nights from falling all the way,
Your firelight shows the path where we still pray.
Oh father, come and hear us when the dark grows long,
Your memory is the heartbreak and the home of our song.
(Verse 2 - Memory of Him)
You loved the elders' songs beneath the cedar pines,
The way the drum would answer like steady, slow lines.
You wore that jacket on summer nights at the fair,
Beads catching the moonlight in a threadbare prayer.
Your hands taught us to carve and to count every star,
You fixed the Chevy tail light and carried us to the jar.
You told stories of moccasins, of honor and repair,
How to listen to the wind and how to kneel and care.
(Chorus - Together, addressing Dad)
Oh father, hear this lonesome cry,
Chantelle and Charlie dry their eyes.
Morgan and Courtney feel the ache you left below,
Four children hold your name where the cold winds blow.
Your drumbeat keeps the nights from falling all the way,
Your firelight shows the path where we still pray.
Oh father, come and hear us when the dark grows long,
Your memory is the heartbreak and the home of our song.
(Bridge - Father’s Voice, soft, like a memory)
I’m in the drum that hums beneath the noon,
I’m in the beadwork glow and the wound of the moon.
I walked the river banks with you on my knee,
I whispered, "Stay together," and I never meant to leave.
If grief is a ledger, then let love be the page,
If you feel me in the night, let the powwow drum wage.
(Verse 3 - The Children, at the graveside)
We brought that beadwork jacket to lay upon your chest,
The drumbeat on a borrowed porch, the only thing that rests.
Chantelle sings the campfire chorus, voice thin and bright,
Charlie folds his shoulders like a man he’ll be tonight.
Morgan counts the footsteps that lead us from the gate,
Courtney steadies every breath as we learn to wait.
We plant a cedar sapling where the sunlight seemed to fall,
So your feet can find shelter and your stories answer all.
(Final Chorus - Full, aching)
Oh father, hear this lonesome cry,
Chantelle and Charlie dry their eyes.
Morgan and Courtney carry what you taught us to know,
Four children keep your heartbeat where the night winds go.
Your drum still beats beneath the pine and through the clay,
Your firelight keeps our hands from wandering away.
Oh father, we will sing until our voices,
