Malcolm Brooks


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Malcolm Brooks

Rockport, Maine

Raspberries on the Burnt Ground
Source: interview with Don Mitchell by his son Roger Mitchell
Heartfelt thanks to Dr. Pauleena MacDougall at the Maine Folklife Center at the University of Maine, Orono
Consulting and guidance: Dr. Gerald Pocius, Memorial University of Newfoundland
Film Design and Artwork: Clio Berta
 
A documentary song collaboration with Hannah Batley and Rush DeNooyer
Vocal: Hannah Batley
Harmony: Meredith Batley
Guitar: Malcolm Brooks
Cello: Nora Willauer
Violin: Sophie Davis
Viola: Nathan Hillman
Available on iTunes and Amazon on the “Lady on the Radio” album
 

Marieke Slovin and Malcolm Brooks

Marieke Slovin and Malcolm Brooks

Prescott, Arizona

My Eyes Are Looking at the Moon
 
Writers:
Malcolm Brooks – story source, Marieke Slovin – musical sherpa
Malcolm Brooks looks up at the moonlit sky and confronts his own vanity.

My eyes are looking at the moon.
They are hiding behind these glasses.
Want to throw them down, smash them on the ground,
So the moon could really see me, the moon could really see me.
 
Well, I can see the moon but it can’t see me.
My glasses are always in between.
There’s weakness written all over my face.
It keeps me feeling so far away.
 
My eyes are looking at the moon…
 
I know I’m not supposed to feel this way.
You can call me week, you can call me vain.
It’s not, I swear, it’s not vanity.
I want the world to see what I want it to see.
 
My eyes are looking at the moon…
 
In my imagination, I am standing someplace.
I take my glasses off, show the moon my face.
The moon says, “Hey now, where you gone?”
“I can’t see you without your glasses on.”
 
My eyes are looking at the moon.
They are hiding behind these glasses.
Want to throw them down, smash them on the ground,
So you could really see me, you could really see me.
 


Raspberries on the Burnt Ground
As a young boy in the early 1900s, Don Mitchell witnessed a fire sweeping through his Maine village and then found delicious raspberries growing in the aftermath.
 

The fire came, the fire came, the fire came down.
 
Well, she started at Hasting Brook,
Hasting Brook by the big falls.
Between Jackson Sluice and Adam’s Rib,
She took out a strip of land,
And the trees, she, took them all.
 
Then she came up, near the town line
So they moved all the kids to Warren McGuire’s.
Where Warren lived and Merle lived
They moved us all out there
To save us from the fire.
 
She swung right toward to the river.
That’s where she quit.
She didn’t jump the water at all.
And I don’t know if you’ve been down there lately,
The trees are still so small, so small.
 
And for years we’d pick raspberries
Anywhere the fire came down.
Anywhere the fire came down they grew there.
And oh, they were beautiful on the burnt ground,
Raspberries everywhere.
 
The fire came, the fire came, the fire came down.
 
Other Songs with Malcolm:

  • My Wish For You
  • Where My Eyes Should Go
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