During the first coronavirus lockdown, Cornwall was inundated with tourists. It seemed there was quite literally nowhere else to go. Despite living within 300 yards of Penzance promenade, the place became a no-go area for us as we were still wary of being in crowds and possibly catching Covid 19. To escape from the crowds, we started going up to the Cornish hinterland and it was lovely. Blessed with wonderful weather (and we could still sea the sea from the hills, we went looking for all the local standing stones and it was wonderful.
Bruce Springsteen’s song, Born to Run has always been my wife Wendy’s song (it’s the only one she likes with her name in it…I even have it as her ringtone when she calls), so it felt right to rewrite the lyrics of this song to mark this strange period of our life. As grandparents, I thought “Gramps like us…” was ));:’mfdnmore appropriate (sorry Bruce!)
photo: newyorkupstate.com
FORCED TO RUN
In the day we’d head off out, round the streets
Or a stroll down the Larrigan stream
At night we’d binge through boxsets of Poldark
On DVD machines
Off to Camborne (Tesco) on the lone main road
Passing incoming traffic, each one with a heavy load
Oh, baby this town fills up front to back,
It’s a stop gap, on a staycation app
We better head out or we’re done,
‘cause Gramps like us, baby we were forced to run
Yes, girl, we were
Wendy let me in! (Forgot my key again!)
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just stick those feet in your walking boots
And I’ll fire up the Peugeot’s engine
Together we will head for the hills
We’ll climb ‘til we drop, (maybe we’ll catch the bus back?)
Oh, will you walk with me out on the moors
‘Cause baby I’m just scared of coronavirus
I don’t wanna know how it feels
I want to walk out in the wild, babe
I want to know that peace is real
Oh, can you show me?
(sax break)
Beyond the station, family-filled drones
Crawl down the promenade
Folk fill the beach with all that glitters
While their barbecues look so charred
The harbour car park is full until dark
Kids are huddled on a bench getting pissed
I wanna fly with you Wendy to some standing stones
For an everlasting kiss. (huh!)
1-2-3-4 The highways jammed with broke-down tourists
So, no chance for St Ives
Everybody’s out on the prom tonight
So, we best stay in and hide
Together Wendy we can leave all the madness
I’ll love you ‘til all the belted cows come home
Oh, someday girl, I don’t know when
We’re gonna get to that place
Where we really wanna go – walk the coast path again
But ‘til then, Gramps like us
Baby, we were forced to run
Oh, baby, Gramps like us
Baby, we were forced to run
Come on Wendy, Gramps like us
Baby, we were forced to run.
© gray lightfoot (and bruce springsteen)
Doin’ Bruce proud…and mostly yourself and this appreciative reader. It’s a very fun road-trip; I’d enjoy hearing a songful recording!
Best, Mary Ann Mayer ( Boston)
Cheers, Mary Ann…not sure Bruce would appreciate the competition 😄