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The Robin and the Jay
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Light acoustic song written for the novel 'The Blue Door' - a song about home and family.
Acoustic - Folk
Previous peak charts position #88
Previous peak charts position in subgenre #15
Christopher M Solaas
2009
December 31, 2009
MP3 3.3 MB
128 kbps bitrate
3:37 minutes
Story behind the song
Based on the Parable of the house built upon the Sand, and the passage in Corinthians about Wood, Hay, and Stubble. What foundation are the homes that we build for our families based on? Is it the shifting sands of this passing world, or the solid rock? Do we build a home where our kids feel welcome? One they'd want to return to if they were ever in trouble? Build up your home as a warm and welcome place, a place that is a shelter from the storms of life.
Lyrics
Oh, the robin sung sweetly as she feathered her nest With the soft down that came from the robin's red breast And she built her home strong, for the eggs that were coming As the winter snow thawed and the stream started running. Twas a home built with care for a love meant to share As the soft songs of Spring filled the sweet morning air And the rains, they came down, and the wind whipped around But the nest in the tree stood there, snug, safe, and sound Are the homes that we build made of wood, hay, and stubble? Are there gold and bright gems in the midst of the rubble? Will our children remember, wherever they roam That there'll always be a place to come home? Oh, the bluejay came late to the wood in the glen When the winter storms pased, with the Spring setting in With a nest thrown together, and nary a feather Unaware of the wind and the oncoming weather Twas a home built in haste, and the jay, as she raced Could not see the dark clouds that would soon lay to waste All her efforts begun on a home for her young As the storm cast her home in the dirt and the dung Are the homes that we build made of wood, hay, and stubble? Are there gold and bright gems in the midst of the rubble? Will our children remember, wherever they roam That there'll always be a place to come home? Are the homes that we build made of wood, hay, and stubble? Are there gold and bright gems in the midst of the rubble? Will our children remember, wherever they roam That there'll always be a place to come home?
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