Some of the inspiration for this came from a lovely song which begins "My love he works out on the roads..." by Rob Malaney who in turn was, I believe, inspired by Owen Hand's "My Donald he works on the sea...". It was while driving past some workmen digging a ditch in Oak Lane, Bradford, that the first lines came into my head. The rest soon followed.
Sweet as Wood Smoke
His hands are rough and weathered,
his face ingrained with dirt;
he's all day in the open
as he goes about his work.
He comes home in the evening,
washes the dirt away,
picks up his old guitar,
sits by the fire and plays.
And he sings of hope and tragedy,
of adventure on the sea.
He sings of war and peace and love,
as he turns his gaze on me.
And his voice is sweet as wood smoke,
warm as the glowing coal,
strong as the iron fender,
and it penetrates my soul.
I join him in his chorus
as we send the world away
and we melt into each other
at the closing of the day.
Outside the wind may rattle,
the rain pour from above,
but I am safe and warm tonight,
curled around my love.
And his voice is sweet as wood smoke,
warm as the glowing coal,
strong as the iron fender,
and it penetrates my soul.
©2003 Rahel Guzelian
