Those evening bells, those evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth and home and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours have passed away,
And many a heart that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 'twill be when I am gone,
The tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards will walk these halls
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

-- Anonymous

“What's your favorite song?” I inquired of a friend during band intermission at a dance.

“Hands down, probably the most beautiful song since the dawn of time was, 'At Sundown,'” he said, and hummed a few bars.

“No way,” disagreed another man at the table whose favorite is “Stardust.”

For a moment, I thought his wife was about to bean him.

“You know better than that,” she said, rather haughtily, “'Misty' is the most beautiful song ever written.”

I don't know that I have a favorite song, but I suppose any one that I can dance to.

Papa liked “In the Gloaming” and “Annie Skinner's Chicken Dinner,” while my piano and organ-playing mama, leaned toward hymns: “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and “The Old Rugged Cross.”

One will no doubt find that different generations are bent to different beats, for instance, “Feelings,” “Get a Job,” Elvis Presley's “Heartbreak Hotel,” a Hammer rock tune, so-called “Metallic Rock,” and today's generation, Hip-Hop and Gangsta Rap which is so hot that one should not listen to them unless there's a fire extinguisher in reach.

In truth, having been born on a Montana cattle ranch and ridden the ranges where luck never changes, as an old song of the era put it, I've always more or less liked cowboy songs, a genre that eventually melded into what we call country and western swing music that is still popular today, especially in Fresno where, when Billy Ray Cyrus came to town singing his “Achy Breaky Heart” his fans almost tore host Wal-Mart down trying to get in.

Perhaps you remember some of these songs: Gene Autry's “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and such tunes as “When the Bloom is on the Stage,” “There's an Empty Cot in the Bunkhouse Tonight,” Bob Wills' “San Antonio Rose,” and musicians Tulare's Maddox Brothers & Rose, Tipton's David Frizzle and right up to Merle Haggard's “Okie from Muskogee” and Willie Nelson's “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.”

However, I must admit that this music form has veered off into a stupid sphere that tends to give the entire genre a bad name, and I am speaking about such songs as, “Thanks to the Cat House I'm in the Dog House With You,” “How Can I Love You When You Won't Come Home” and “My Wife Ran Off with My Best Friend and I Miss Him.”

I wish that I could assure you that this latter and crude development in the country music field is fading, but the opposite is true as attested by dozens of other hits, such as: “I've Finally Hurt Her More than She Loves Me,” “If I Kiss You, Will You Go Away?” “I Won't Set Out the Silver for a Man Who Won't Say Grace,” “You Feel Better All Over than Anyplace Else,” “I've Been Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart,” “I'll Love You Forever or Until the Sun Comes Up and It's Motel Check-out Time,” “Tonight She Gave Me More than I've Been Missing,” “You Must Think My Bed's a Bus Stop the Way You Come and Go.”

“I'm Going to Put a Bar in My Car and Drive Myself to Drink,” “You Used to Call Me Kitten Before You Started Treating Me Like a Dog,” “The Woman Who Walked into My Heart Just Drove Out in My Pickup Truck,” “My Old Flame is Burning Down Another Cathouse Tonight” and “Give Your Soul to Jesus but Save the Rest For Me.”

(Comments to the author at valleyfox@accessbee.com.)