Minden’s Scottish Tartan Fetival

Along with the superstars of the Scottish world mentioned on this flier, I’ll be storytelling and performing music at this wonderful festival. If you live in North Louisiana or East Texas, you need to be there! I’ve always had a great time there.

Angus-Dubghall to Perform at the Arkansas Scottish Festival

The 2010 Arkansas Scottish Festival April 23-25  2010 is a wonderful experience. Held on the beautiful campus of Lyon College, the oldest independent college in Arkansas (1872), is in the town of Batesville,  in North-central Arkansas. Tom & I were there last year and this year Mary is joining us.  Her fiddle and harmonies add so much to our music.  Last year we performed three times–twice on Saturday and once on Sunday, following Alex Beaton each time–and this year it looks like the same schedule. If you like Scottish things, this is worth attending. I made several new friends last year.

Here is the link so you can explore the festival:

Hope to see you there! If you have friends or relatives in the area, send them our way. We’ll dedicate a song to them (or to you).

A New Song: “Welcome Home, My Son” by Rickey Pittman

Last week, while driving to Texarcana to do my school programs, on Highway 71 outside of Shreveport, I saw a driveway all decorated up and a big sign that said, WELCOME HOME, SON. That and the memoir I’m editing for Mitchell Waite entitled, 400 Days in Iraq, inspired me to write this song. Let me know what you think of it. I may revise some of it later.

“Welcome Home, My Son” by Rickey Pittman

My tour in Iraq was over,
And at last I was going home,
The sun was setting to my left,
As I drove on alone

I came to my parents’ home
On highway 71
A sign stood by the driveway,
Saying, Welcome home our son.

A string of balloons and small American flags,
danced in the Southern air,
Yellow  ribbons were tied to trees
And to the mailbox there.

My dad met me at the door
Grinning big as you please,
My mother started crying
The moment she saw me,

After supper we took pictures,
And talked till it was late,
But we didn’t talk about the war,
Or mistakes we all had made

I lay down on an old bed,
That I’d slept in as a child
In days when life was simpler
And I roamed free and wild

I heard a lonely whippoorwill
Owls, coyotes and Bob Whites
But no rockets or rifle fire,
Troubled me this night.

Welcome home our soldier,
Your tour of duty’s done
You’ve been gone 400 days,
Welcome home our son.