BITTERSWEET GRACE

written by Suzanne Campagne and Davy Gallant

I've always believed that my father belongs to the earth

As sure as the earth is

I grew up among others whose views were strong

One language, one faith, one way -- not his

And I knew that their words had seeped down to the ground

On the prairies -- this land his father had found

And I knew that the crown in the legion hall

Was no symbol for him at all

But, oh, their songs could make him cry

He could whistle, for days, their lullabies

Though I feared his pain, I loved that part

That bittersweet grace in his heart

I've always believed that my father belongs to kindness

As sure as kindness is

And I've made my way trying to define

My strength, my need, my way -- not his

Yet I knew for their queen, they could be unkind

Beat him down on a drum made of the stretched skin of his kind

And nothing like the pipes could drive the point home

For my father who stood alone

But, oh, their songs could make him cry

He could whistle, for days, their lullabies

Though I feared his pain, I loved that part

That bittersweet grace in his heart

Yet I knew for their queen, they could be unkind

Beat him down on a drum made of the stretched skin of his kind

And nothing like the pipes could drive the point home

For my father who stood alone

But, oh, their songs could make him cry

He could whistle, for days, their lullabies

Though I feared his pain, I loved that part

That bittersweet grace in his heart

from Nouvelle-France

©1998 Highway 13 Musique / Folle Avoine Productions, Homestead Musique

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