2013
Music by Shawn Brogan Allison
Lyrics by Laura Mercado-Wright

In the weeks leading up to the birth of my nephew Jae, this poem came to me all at once, almost fully formed. I asked my dear friend and composer, Shawn Allison, to set it to music, and he agreed.—LMW

It’s time to slow down
And just put it all away for now.
Rest your head and close your eyes,
And drift away to far away,
Just for now.

And while you dream
I’ll watch over you,
Even if I’m far away too.

Dream sweet dreams 
And when you wake, we’ll do our best to make them all come true,
Because I love you,
And because that’s what we dreamers do.

2023
Music and lyrics by Laura Mercado-Wright (b.1979)

“For VAMP’s Between the Worlds concert in 2023, I knew I wanted to write something in Spanish (the language of my heritage), and that I wanted to pay homage to the incredible and inspiring women in my family, as well as to the larger community of women I’ve had the honor of crossing paths with over the years. I found it a particular challenge to stick to a simple song form; I didn’t want to over complicate the message, settling on a verse-chorus format with the simple refrain, “Les doy las gracias” - I give you thanks.”
–Laura Mercado-Wright

A todas las mujeres de mi vida
Les doy las gracias.

Singulares como rayos del sol en el horizonte
Mientras el mundo revuelve
Accelerando cada vez más,
Les doy las gracias.

Se agranda mi amor,
Se multiplica el valor,
De su sabiduría ancestral.
Y su fuego incalculable,
Les doy las gracias.

English Translation:
To all the women in my life
I give you thanks.

Each like a ray of sun on the horizon
As the world turns and turns
faster and faster, again and again,
I give you thanks.

So grows my love
So grows my appreciation
for your ancestral wisdom
and for your infinite fire

I give you thanks.

2026
Music and poetry by Jennifer Bloom, arr. by Laura Mercado-Wright

This simple and beautiful setting of a poem by Austin poet Jennifer Bloom creates a moment of stillness to reflect on the beauty of the natural world, even in times of distress.  We performed the premiere of this piece along with other settings of Bloom’s newest book of poetry, “Circularity”, back in January of this year with guitarist and composer Justice Phillips.  The original version was accompanied by classical guitar, but we thought it would work just as nicely with Carolyn providing a beautiful marimba underlay and we hope you’ll agree. Check out more of Jennifer’s poetry at jennifer-bloom.com.

2011
Music and lyrics by James Tecuatl-Lee

This song was inspired by Tecuatl-Lee’s stay in the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge, where he learned about Operation Migration, a conservation effort that started in the late 1990s to try and help the whooping crane population whose numbers had at one point dwindled almost to extinction.  For 15 years, the US Fish and Wildlife Department attempted to lead the birds in their migratory process with a mini ultralight aircraft meant to mimic a parent whooping crane.  However, a few years after Tecuatl-Lee wrote this, they canceled the program for due to evidence that it was preventing critical knowledge from being passed from parents to chicks. A fascinating and not uncommon dynamic in wildlife conservation!

Oh mother I’m scared
I’m not prepared for the life that you led
And that your mother led
And back for generations

Oh mother I’m scared
All the wisdom of my ancestors is lost to me
Though I carry the weight of all our kind
Last of the line and flying blind

Oh mother tell me how
Can a young bird hatched in captivity
Learn to be free

Woah it’s a long way away from here
In years and miles and learning again
It’s a long way away from here
And I can’t remember the way to the wintering ground

Oh mother I’m scared
Who are these people that are leading me now?
And should I follow cold metal that beckons so warmly?
Oh are they really helping me?
Whose fathers killed the land
And our kind for generations.

Oh mother prepare me
For this leap of faith.

In 2018, Robert MacFarlane and Jackie Morris produced a book called The Lost Words Spells. The prompt of the book was the editing of the ‘Oxford Junior Dictionary’ in recent years. The junior edition of the Oxford Dictionary is aimed at readers ages seven and up and since 2007 the editors have removed from the book many words used to denote/describe things of nature– some of them relatively common words, such as: acorn, bluebell, ivy, fern, moss, blackberry, dandelion, lark, raven, heron, starling, hazel, heather, goldfinch, grey seal, otter and kingfisher.

The editing body of the OED had determined that the words were of little and lessening use to the modern child. Youngsters weren’t hob-nobbing with hedgehogs and wrens (also excised) and frogs and buttercups (another casualty!), and so needn’t be introduced to words that served well only with regards to the out-of-doors. They excused their actions on the grounds that they needed room for other, newer words with greater relevance to the modern child. Like: attachment, blog, broadband, chatroom, database, committee, and voice-mail.

In 2015, authors Margaret Atwood, Helen Macdonald, and MacFarlane, among other novelists and nature writers, expressed their dismay in an open letter to Oxford University Press. “Childhood is undergoing profound change; some of this is negative; and the rapid decline in children’s connections to nature is a major problem,” they wrote.

This song, The Lost Words Blessing was written in Scottish Gaelic folkloric form by a group of European musicians – Julie Fowlis, Karine Polwart, Seckou Keita, Kris Drever, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, Jim Molyneux, Kerry Andrew. The form is inspired by blessings in Scottish Gaelic, particularly from a beautiful collection of charms and incantations called Carmina Gadelica. It is offered both in hope and light, and in grief for the losses yet to come.

Enter the wild with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river
May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter
May you enter now as otter without falter into water

Look to the sky with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you journey on past dying stars exploding
Like the gilded one in flight, leave your little gifts of light
And in the dead of night my darling,
find the gleaming eye of starling
Like the little aviator, sing your heart to all dark matter

Walk through the world with care, my love
And sing the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you stumble through machair sands eroding
Let the fern unfurl your grieving, let the heron still your breathing
Let the selkie swim you deeper, oh my little silver-seeker
Even as the hour grows bleaker, be the singer and the speaker
And in city and in forest, let the larks become your chorus
And when every hope is gone, let the raven call you home

1968, arranged in 2009
Music and lyrics by Paul Simon (b.1941), arr. Fred Sturm

In 1968, young pop singers Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel presented a reflection on aging with this song that imagined lifelong friends reminiscing about days of their youth when the idea of reaching the age of 70 seemed almost impossible. I wonder how “strange” Simon and Garfunkel must feel now that they themselves are octogenarians. 

This arrangement by Jazz guru Fred Sturm was written for Conductor Rick Bjella on the occasion of Bjella’s retirement from Lawrence University. It went unpublished from 2009 until 2021, but is finally being heard by audiences today.  It was originally written for SATB voices, but we think it’s just as beautiful at a slightly higher pitch for treble voices. A new take on an old song written by young singers about old friends remembering how they contemplated old age when they were young.  You know, the classic old meets new meets old meets new meets old meets new!

Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us
Years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy
Old friends

2008
Music and text by Catherine Dalton
with Incipit from “Spiritus sanctus vivificans” by Hildegard von Bingen

“A beautiful melody serves as the basis of this meditative chant which evolves into an ethereal canon. Sweet Radiant Mystery was born of my own contemplative practice and desire to see the world with open eyes, even if that means seeing things from a different point of view. The piece mirrors both everyday life and our ever-present breath. There are moments of both tension and release, of work and of rest.”
– Catherine Dalton

O Sweet Radiant Mystery,
set us free from that which binds,
beckoning the soul to fly.

O Sweet Radiant Mystery,
open our eyes to see beyond
that which hides the soul from light.

O Sweet Radiant Mystery,
help us hear the endless song
of all that is and was and ever shall be. 

1957
Music and lyrics by Bobby Troup (1918-1999)

This poignant song was written by American composer Bobby Troup who also wrote “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66.” It was performed and recorded numerous times, most notably by the Beach Boys, who also later added lyrics of their own in tribute to James Dean when he died. This vocal arrangement is by the Four Freshmen, who we personally think did it best, and speaks to the way we experience love in our lives and how powerful it can be.

There’s a story told
of a very gentle boy
and the girl who wore his ring.
Through the wintry snow,
the world they knew was warm
for their hearts were full of spring.

As the days grew old
and the nights passed into time
and the weeks and years took wing,
gentle boy, tender girl,
their love remained still young
for their hearts were full of spring.

Then one day they died
and their graves were side by side
on a hill where robins sing.
And they say violets
grow there the whole year round,
for their hearts were full of spring.

(Sephardic medieval Romance, Turkey)
arr. Daniel Johnson (2022)

Tres hermanicas eran is one of the oldest melodies and poems in the Sephardic repertoire and is based on a tradition of poems and ballads in which the king tries to keep the youngest daughter from being married. The top voice is the written melody; the other two are added.
– Notes and translations courtesy of Texas Early Music Project

Tres hermanicas eran, tres hermanicas son,
Las dos eran cazadas, ¡el Amor!
La chica’n perdición.

El padre con vergüenca a Rodes la mandó,
En medio del camino, ¡el Amor!
Castillo le fraguó.

De piedra menudica, xixicos al derredor;
Ventanas altas hizo, ¡el Amor!
Que no suva varón.

Varón es que lo supo, a nadar se echo;
Nadando y navegando, ¡el Amor!
al porto llegó!

Echó sus entrençados arriva lo suvió,
El padre que lo supo, ¡el Amor!
A matar se fue.

“No te mates él, mi padre, qu’es mi primer amor,
Con él yo m’engagí, ¡el Amor!
Y con él me va morir.”

English translation:
There were three sisters, three sisters there are,
Two of them were married, oh Love!
The youngest had fallen into perdition.

With shame, the father took her to Rhodes,
And in the middle of the road, oh Love!
He built a castle.

He built the circumference with abundant little stones;
He made the windows very high, oh Love!
So the young man could not climb in.

The young man knew this, so he swam;
Swimming and sailing, oh Love!
to the port he came!

She let down her tresses and he climbed up,
And when the father found out, oh Love!
He went to kill him.

“Don’t kill him, father, he is my first love!
With him I am engaged, oh Love!
And with him I will die.” 

2024
Lyrics and music by Laura Mercado-Wright

This song came to me one morning when a sparrow outside my window woke me up well before sunrise. I couldn’t go back to sleep, and instead was inspired to write about this relentless bird, singing alone, determined to bring on the day all by herself. The lyrics evolved into a metaphor for a dear friend and one of the bravest souls I know.—Laura Mercado-Wright

First bird
Tugging at the morning light
That first bird
Calling others to be brave
That first bird
To shout out the night
That first bird
She is not afraid
First bird
Follow first bird
See where she roams 
Keep her company
And lift her wings
When she tires
All the way back home
First bird

2013
Text and music by Sarah Quartel (b. 1982)

“Songbird” by Canadian composer Sarah Quartel sets an evocative text describing songbirds that spin tunes of gold. The catchy, colorful melody is first presented by tutti voices, and is then woven through the vocal parts, often to scat accompaniment. The setting ends with an effective passage of close imitation.

I am a Songbird; I will sing anything.​ Give me a tune, I will spin you gold.
Closer you come to the Songbird weaving, stronger the thread of the music's hold.
Feel in the breeze a breath, a soaring song to you, and hear me say:
"I am a Songbird; I will sing anything. Follow the breeze and come my way, come my way!"

One little bird on a branch sits fanning amber wings to the passersby.
Two little birds in flight are threading webs of gold in an endless sky.
Three little birds with brushes painting moonlit sighs in the height of day.
Four little birds with voices gleaming breathe to the wind singing, "come my way!"

Sing little bird so sweetly.
Drown my fears completely.

Five little birds with feathers fluffing stretch and spread in the midday sun.
Six little birds are cooing, humming, drawing the eyes of everyone.
Seven little birds in fountains splashing, droplets soar, they fawn and play.
Eight little birds raise voices higher, breathe to the wind singing, "come my way!"

Sing little bird so sweetly.
Drown my fears completely.

Fly, little Songbirds, to the horizon. Land meets sky and sky meets sea.
Dance, little Songbirds, flick your feathers, move the current, carry me!
Sing, little Songbirds, call to your lovers. Draw them in completely.
You, little Songbirds, you can sing anything. I follow the wind and I come your way, come your way, come your way!

A catch is a type of round or canon that originated in the 16th century in which two or more voices (usually at least three) repeatedly sing the same melody, beginning at different times. They’re mostly secular, can occasionally be sacred, and sometimes on special occasions they can be about CATS.  Today is just such an occasion. 

A Catch on the Midnight Cats
Text and music by Michael Wise (1647-1687)

Ye Cats that at midnight spit Love at each other
Who best feel the Pangs of a passionate Lover.
I appeal to your Scratches and tattered Fur
If the busnes of Love be no more than to Pur.

Old Lady Grimalkin with Goosbery Eyes,
When a Kitten knew something for why she was wise,
You find by experience the Love fit’s soon o’er,
Pus, Pus lasts not long but turns to cat-whore.

Men ride many miles, Cats tread many Tiles
Bot hazard, bot hazard their Necks in the fray,
Only cats if they fall from a House or a Wall keep
Their feet, mount their Tails, mount their Tails, and away.

A Cat Catch
Text and music by Richard Brown (d. 1710)

We Cats when assembled at Midnight together,
For innocent Purring, Purring
In Moon shiny weather

If Dogs be in Kennel, all fast in their straw,
We march, march and we meaw
Wititout scratch or a Claw.

But if they surprise us, and put us to flight,
We fret, fret and we spit, fret, spit, give a squall
Squall, squall and good. 

Appalachian trad., arr. Linda Kachelmeier (b. 1965)

This arrangement of a traditional Appalachian folk song by Minnesota-based composer, conductor, and singer Linda Kachelmeier has challenged us to find a new voice and connect to an age-old story. It’s a display of empowerment through heartbreak and desperation that we found very moving. 

Don’t sing love songs, you’ll wake my mother,
She’s sleepin’ here right by my side.
And in her right hand, a silver dagger,
She says that I can’t be your bride.

“All men are false” says my mother,”
“They’ll tell you wicked, lovin’ lies
And the very next evenin’, they’ll court another
And leave you alone to pine and sigh.”

My daddy is a handsome devil
He's got a chain five miles long,
And on every link a heart does dangle
Of another maid he's loved and wronged.

Go court another tender maiden
And see if she will be your wife
For I've been warned and I've decided
To sleep alone all of my life.

1928
Text by Bertoldt Brecht, Music by Kurt Weill (1900-1950), English translation by Marc Blitzstein
Arr. by Laura Mercado-Wright

Pirate Jenny is one of the most famous songs from Kurt Weill’s The Threepenny Opera, a “play with music” that premiered in 1928 in Berlin and served to critique capitalist society. The song was originally written for the character Polly who revels in defying her parents by stepping out with Mack the Knife (London’s most notorious criminal), but is often reassigned to be sung by the prostitute Jenny in the second act of the play.  Jenny is a maid at a filthy hotel and is ignored and harassed by the patrons. They tease her with questions of when her “pirate husband” will return. Little do they know that she herself is the pirate. She serves as one of the earliest manifestations of feminism in Germany’s Weimar Republic, with new social, economic, and political freedom for women. The song was originally performed by Lotte Lenya who was married to Weill at the time of the play’s premiere, but it has since been covered by numerous artists including Bea Arthur and Nina Simone. We like to think there’s a little of Pirate Jenny in us all.

You gentlemen can watch while I'm scrubbin' the floors
And I'm scrubbin' the floors while you're gawkin'
And maybe once you tip me and it makes you feel swell
On a ratty waterfront in a ratty old hotel
And you never guess to who you're talkin'
You never guess to who you are talkin'
Suddenly one night, there's a scream in the night
And you wonder, "What could that a-been?"
And you see me kinda grinnin' while I'm scrubbin'
And you wonder, "What's she got to grin?"

And a ship, a black freighter
With a skull on its masthead
Will be comin' in

You gentlemen can say, "Hey girl, finish thе floors
Get upstairs, make the bеds, earn your keep here!"
You toss me your tips and look out at the ships
But I'm countin' your heads while I make up the beds
'Cause there's nobody gonna sleep here
Tonight none of you will sleep here
Then that night there's a bang in the night
And you yell, "Who's that kickin' up a row?"
And you see me kinda starin' out the winda
And you say, "What's she got to stare at now?"

And a ship, the black freighter
Turns around in the harbor
Shootin' guns from the bow

Then you gentlemen can wipe off that laugh from your face
Every building in town is a flat one
Your whole stinkin' place will be down to the ground
Only this cheap hotel standin' up safe and sound
And you yell, "Why do they spare that one?"
And you say, "Why do they spare that one?"
All the night through with the noise and to-do
You wonder who's that person lives up there
Then you see me steppin' out into the mornin'
Lookin' nice with a ribbon in my hair

And the ship, the black freighter
Runs the flag up its masthead
And a cheer rings the air!

By noontime the dock is all swarmin' with men
Comin' off of that ghostly freighter
They're movin' in the shadows where no one can see
And they're chainin' up people and bringin' them to me
Askin' me, "Kill them now or later?"
Askin' me, "Kill them now or later?"
Noon by the clock and so still on the dock
You can hear a foghorn miles away
In that quiet of death, I'll say
“Right now"
And they pile up the bodies and I'll say
"That'll learn you"

Then the ship, the black freighter
Disappears out to sea
And on it is me

2012
Lyrics and music by Kim Baryluk (b.1959)

“Warrior” is a song of collaboration between two Canadian all-women's musical groups: Lady Cove Women's Choir and Eastern Owl. It was their hope that this work will inspire and empower women to keep fighting for gender equity, as well as continue to look out for each other, and lift each other up.

I was  a shy and lonely girl – with the heavens in my eyes
and as I walked along the lane – I heard the echoes of her cries

I cannot fight, I cannot a warrior be;
It’s not my nature nor my duty.
It is the womanhood in me.

I was a lost and angry youth – there were no tears in my eyes.
I saw no justice in my world – only the echoes of her cries.

I cannot fight, I cannot a warrior be;
It is my nature – not my duty.
It is the womanhood in me.

I am an older woman now – and I will heed my own cries
and I will a fierce warrior be – ‘til not another woman dies

I can and will fight, I can and will a warrior be;
It is my nature and my teaching.
It is the sister-hood in me.

I can and will fight, I can and will a warrior be;
It is my teaching and my duty – it is the sisterhood in me.

2024
Carolyn Trowbridge (b. 1984)

“Dear Someday grew out of my struggle to find balance between being a musician, a creative person, and being fully present as a mother—a challenge that continues to evolve. Parenthood is one of life’s greatest joys and privileges, but it can also be easy to lose sight of yourself. This piece is a letter to the future. While it grew out of my experience as a parent, it speaks to anyone navigating a season of change, uncertainty, or sacrifice. It is a reminder that difficult seasons are temporary and that, in time, we find our way back to ourselves. Through it all, this piece reflects my gratitude for the journey—the challenges, the growth, and the love that make every season meaningful.”
– Carolyn Trowbridge

Music and Lyrics by the Secret Sisters

Suddenly, you came out of me
And though I tried to be, I wasn't ready
And now I am afraid of the paths l've laid
Oh, and all the ways this world ain't steady

I barely recognize my face
I feel I might've lost my place

But I still love to sing a sad song, so I do
In the early morning hours when I'm holding you
And the rock and roll ain't quite as loud
'Cause the name I worked so hard to make is "Mama" now

I used to want the things that money brings
Shiny trophies to award my mind
You've turned it all to gold, with your little hand to hold
And all the clouds are silver lined

Can I find a way to blend
The muse and mother hen?

I still love to sing a sad song, so I do
In the early morning hours when l'm holding you
And the rock and roll ain't quite as loud
'Cause the name I worked so hard to make is "Mama" now

I still rock and sway, I still dance and play
I still love the way the music moans
But do I miss the stage and being far away
Enough to leave my heart at home?

Will the magic still be there?
And if it isn't, will I care?

'Cause when I wanna sing a sad song then I do
In the early morning hours when I'm holding you
And the rock and roll ain't quite as loud
'Cause the name I worked so hard to make is "Mama" now

Yes, the name that means the most to me is "Mama" now

1647
Luigi Rossi (1597-1653)

Rossi, a Baroque composer born in the Kingdom of Naples, was best known for his chamber cantatas, but he composed two operas. Orfeo is a version of the well-known tale of Orfeo’s tragic attempt to save his lover Eurydice from the Underworld. Premiered in Paris, Rossi definitively blends Italian characteristics with French court opera traditions of the time, showcasing a wide variety of styles and many opportunities for ensemble singing. This trio from the end of Act 2 is a brief and beautiful lullaby, lulling Eurydice to sleep in a field, shortly before she is bitten by a snake and dies, which commences her journey to the Underworld. It is quite unusual to have continuo covered by a marimba, but we think it should happen more often when you have a player like Carolyn Trowbridge!

Dormite, begli’occhi, dormite.
Che se ben tant’impiagate,
Più dolce è’l mal che fate,
Qualora in pace ferite.
Dormite, begli’occhi, dormite.

English translation:
Rest, beautiful eyes, rest.
For though so deeply wounded,
Sweeter is the pain you deal
Whenever you strike in peace.
Rest, beautiful eyes, rest.

2025
Poem by Sara Teasdale, music by Russell Podgorsek (b. 1980)

We were lucky enough to get to work with composer Russell Podgorsek on his large-scale work Invisible Women which we premiered in 2024; it was just recently named a Finalist for the American Prize in Composition! We’ve witnessed his growth and he has witnessed ours. He wrote Teasdale Epigraph as a gift to mark the occasion or our debut album release. It is simple, elegant, and we are grateful for Russell’s art and friendship.

In the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.

What have I to fear in life or death
Who have known three things:
the kiss in the night,
The white flying joy when a song is born,
And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.

Scottish trad.

Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm I've ever done
Alas it was to none but me

And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be to you all

So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befall
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all

Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay

But since it fell unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all