Track 08 – Softshoe . . . Second Hand

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In the summer of 1968, I was taught how to do the soft-shoe by a friend. She was performing in a musical, and during one of her rehearsals, just before she was to go on stage, she became very nervous. So to relax, she just started doing the soft-shoe, and to help her get over her nervousness, she taught me how to do it. It was a fun time, and we laughed so hard, that she forgot that she was nervous.

In 1981, I found myself one evening thinking back on the bonds and friendships, and the search for “Self” that I endured as a teenager, and for some reason, I found myself doing the soft shoe on the living room floor. That soft-shoe inspired me to write this song that, for me, expressed the joy in looking back at nice times and nice people. We are the product of many people: some since gone; some still here; and some still yet to come. Music is such a nice way of reflecting on those influences, and for thanking those who were there.  To old friends . . . old times . . . and to new visits to those souvenirs of a time gone by.

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Softshoe . . . Second Hand (6:29)

 

Many years ago I knew her . . . when everything was new;

When playful breezes blew brown hair . . . across your fawn-brown eyes.

Moonlit swings in the evening glow . . . our toes reached for every star;

And bellies buckled with a laugh or two . . . singing “April Come She Will”.

 

Da da da-da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da; da da-da da; do da da da da.

 

Lazy legs long-dangled off the apron of a stage . . . our eyes revealed feelings that we couldn’t gauge;

Pinafore” and “Gypsy” filled our April days . . . and you taught me soft-shoe second hand . . .

And you taught me soft-shoe second hand.

 

Days by your piano filled . . . our hearts, our minds, the room with notes;

That gave such joy and friendship . . . to our souls.

 

Da da da-da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da; da da-da da; do da da da da.

 

We had goals to keep . . . and mountains to climb . . . a pocket-full of wishes . . . and acres of time . . . yet

The distance between us forever will grow . . . still walking along . . . with years to go . . . just walking along . . . in “Years Ago.”

Silent steps, soft walking, like drops of rain . . . you tap into my poetry . . . my songs;

I pick up our memories like an old book . . . the page mark still where it belongs . . . the page mark still where it belongs.

 

Da da da-da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da da da; da da da da-da da; da da da da-da; da da-da da; do da da da da.

 

Looking in your eyes . . . where moonlight swims . . . the smile you wore was just for me;

We brought along our wings and picked out any roof . . . stay a little longer . . . stay . . . for me.

 

I have let me dream too far . . . I have let me dream too far.

 

Many years ago I knew her . . . when everything was new;

And I still can do some soft-shoe . . . second hand;  And I still can do some soft-shoe . . . secondhand.

 

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