Isabella McBride

In Yuma, Arizona, Marilyn Lott changed a lot about my career. She brought me there to sing my songs eighteen times around town. At one of our stops there was an angry little old woman who, I don’t believe, had any intention of enjoying my little program. I didn’t have any intention of asking her to enjoy it either but to our mutual surprise, we found the music to be an irresistible attractor. Marilyn brought me a whole new idea of what I could do with my music and Isabella showed me how it works.

Isabella McBride takes the hand of the stranger
With a single tear she spoke every word
Though she could not speak for her body has failed her
A tear rolls down and the stranger heard

In the shade tree home they care for the old
Isabella McBride goes there to die
To hell with the world, she sits by the window
Curses a world that passes her by

Now a song she loves, the voice of a stranger
With every word a year peels away
To another time, a dance in the moon light
A walk in the garden, a lover’s bouquet

How the magic lends itself to the music
How the mystery of some old melody
Can be frozen in time, now the song from a stranger
Melts Isabella’s memory