NJHB
Kaleidoscope Of Butterflies

1. Kaleidoscope Of Butterflies
2. Fey Minuet
3. Elven Forest

all songs by Larry Heyl

Rev. Rick Bowen - spoken word
Chase Hoots - alto sax
Joseph Curtis - trumpet
Cody Daughertee - trumpet
Selah Winn - trombone
Gabe Waters - bass
Alex Washam - drums
Chris Isom - drums
Hairy Larry - piano,
  vocals, beatbox

Photos by Vivan Heyl
Butterflies Venita Oberholster
HairyLarryLand hll-1052
hairylarryland.com

Recorded September 14, 2019
at New Jazz In Jonesboro
in the Jonesboro Public Library.

Recorded to my Zoom H6 with the midside mics attached.
Audio post production done in audacity and SAW Classic. Then flac --best.

Rev. Rick excerpted from "L'Allegro" by John Milton on "Fey Minuet".

Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine;
While the cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn door,
Stoutly struts his dames before;
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill.
Sometime walking, not unseen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great Sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight.
While the ploughman near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
