Formed in 2000 in Agua Dulce, TX. We write, record, and perform all styles of Texas - Christian music that ranges from southern rock, to blues/jazz, to country and Latino salsa, Tex-Mex, and a little of what we call "Padre Island raggea".
We've released 2 full length, all original CD's in the past 5 years, both recorded right here, close to home, at Trinity Studios in Corpus Christi. You can check them out and learn more about us at our website: www.betterlatethaNever.com.
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AMERICA, O power benign, great hearts revere your name, You stretch your hand to every land, to weak and strong the same; You claim no conquest of the sea, nor conquest of the field, But conquest for the rights of man, that despots all shall yield.
Chorus: America, fair land of mine, home of the just and true, All hail to thee, land of the free, and the Red-White-and-Blue.
America, staunch, undismayed, your spirit is our might: No splendor falls on feudal walls upon your mountain's height, But shafts of Justice pierce your skies to light the way for all, A worlds great brotherhood of man, that cannot, must not fall.
America, in God we trust, we fear no tyrants horde: There's light that leads toward better deeds than conquest by the sword; Yet our cause is just, if fight we must until the world be free Of every menace, breed or caste that strikes at Liberty.
America, home of the brave, our song in praise we bring, Where Stars and Stripes the winds unfurl, 'tis there that tributes ring; Our fathers gave their lives that we should live in Freedom's light, Our lives we consecrate to thee, our guide the Might of Right.
"Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer Thought it scarcely worth his while To waste much time on the old violin, But he held it up with a smile. "What am I bidden, good folks," he cried, "Who'll start bidding for me? A dollar, a dollar - now who"ll make it two _ Two dollars, and who"ll make it three? "Three dollars once, three dollars twice, Going for three". . . but no! From the room far back a gray-haired man Came forward and picked up the bow; Then wiping the dust from the old violin, And tightening up the strings, He played a melody,pure and sweet, As sweet as an angel sings. The music ceased and the auctioneer With a voice that was quiet and low, Said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?" And he held it up with the bow; "A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two? Two thousand - and who'll make it three? Three thousand once, three thousand twice And going - and gone," said he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We do not quite understand - What changed its worth?" The man replied: "The touch of the masters hand." And many a man with life out of tune, And battered and torn with sin, Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd. Much like the old violin. A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine, A game and he travels on, He's going once, and going twice - He's going - and almost gone! But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd, Never can quite understand, The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought By the touch of the MASTER'S hand. ~Myra B. Welch
The first Spanish horses on record were brought to Texas in 1542 by the Moscoso expedition.
Their endurance is legendary, treasured by the Indian horse nations, feared by the American cavalry and preferred over other breeds by the Pony Express riders and old time cowboys. No cattle drive would have been successful if not for the strength and hardiness of the mustang and long horn cattle.
Okay mark your calendars for July 19th. I have put you guys down. What time do you play in Bishop tomorrow. I may ride my bike down there if you play early enough.
BEACH SAND by Raymond A. Foss Maybe it is the memories the change of pace that brings us there the sense of vacation maybe the smell of the place the sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grasses but oh it is the feel of it, the crunch and slide of it the feeling of beach sand so different from dirt, soil, loam no, not earthy, moist, rich, but oh so granular and gritty even when wet, moveable paper spreading under toes sliding beneath the soles smoothing my skin clearing my mind unburdening me of the rest drawing me to the tactile, the feel of beach sand Enjoy the upcoming weekend my friend.
"The flower that walks", the Indian; said, And walking spreads its crown-like roots Through forest glades and upland dales.
Moccasin flower or Lady’s Slipper, It matters not the name Or if it be fair white or rose or tiny yellow kind Tis ever rare and wondrous there This woodland beauty Bequeathed us from another age.
A Heritage to guard with care And cherish for posterity That other eyes in future years May see this Orchid walk the trails As did our native Indian braves And shy eyed maidens of the tribe.
Tom, great to hear from you. I hope all is well for you and the band and cant wait to see yall sometime. Im really glad that you like the CD and the liner. If it werent for him none of this would be possible. Hope you can come out and see us someday. Have a great week and god bless you.
