I stumbled upon a blog post by Tim Boucher with this title, and instantly knew I had to write a song to explore the topic. Here it is.
Lyrics:
Her hard work behind her, she needs no reminder
Kicks back on the porch, with her hears open wide
Spirits in chorus, who’ve passed on before us
To their voices she listens, full moon hanging high
Ancestor radio, play that sweet music, oh
Melodies heavenly, rhythms sublime
She tunes her receiver, she is a believer
For the broadcasted signal has dropped her a line
Ancestor radio, sing me a song
Through wastelands of static, your signal is strong
Ancestor radio, don’t pass me by
Your current it flows, may it never run dry
Antennas all over, smoked leaf of a clover
The whisper of wind, or the bark of a tree
Stones on the mantle, for instance example
There pictured in frame, old eyes looking at me
Ancestor radio, help me to find
The frequency needed, to make your song shine
Ancestor radio, come back my way
I’ll suffer the white noise until that fine day
Cool breeze on a hill top, night sky as a backdrop
Firefly glow, in the darkness between
Spirit guitar strumming, can’t help but start humming
Tune in for yourself, and you’ll hear what I mean