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Charles Booker... Compositions



Commission/Premier of Boston Mountain Overture

Boston Mountain Overture was composed in September and October 2002 and is dedicated to Leighnora Buchanan and Julia Reynolds for their lifetime of work as Band Directors in the state of Arkansas. Leighnora "Prissy" Buchanan is a past president of the Arkansas School Band and Orchestra Association, and currently, Administrative Advisor to the Arkansas Bandmasters Association. Julia Reynolds is also a past president of ASBOA and is its current Executive Secretary-Treasurer. The piece was premiered in January 2003 by the Region I - Second Band, Ms. Reynolds conducting.

Boston Mountain is the mountain that separates the Arkansas River Valley from the northwestern part of Arkansas. The music chosen for the overture are the familiar folk themes "Buffalo Gals" and "She'll Be Comin' Around the Mountain". The middle section features an old Ozark ballad, "The Basket-Maker's Child," found in "The Treasury of Song for the Home Circle" published in 1882.

The verses read:

Verse 1
Where the green willows swayed by the brook,
And the sweet waters danced and smiled,
In a cottage nestled in a quiet nook
Dwelt the basket-maker's child.

'Twas the sabbath eve,
The stars twinkled bright in the sky,
The hills reechoed the night bird's song,
When they told me she must die.

Verse 2
Oh weep not for me she said,
Tho' the death damp has dimmm'd my eye,
My Saviour's hand is beneath my head,
I do not fear to die.

I go to my happy home.
My earth work is almost done,
And I hear my blessed Saviour's words,
"Let little children come!"

Verse 3
Let me rest beside the brook,
Where the sweet waters flow so mild.
And I carve on the tree where I used to play,
"I'm the basket maker's child."

Where the green willows wave by the brook,
And the sweet waters danced and smiled.
We have laid her to rest and carved on the oak,
"The basket maker's child."

The Chorus: (sung after each verse)
The green willows waved by the brook,
The stars glitter'd bright in the sky,
The wind's low moan the leaves shook,
On that stilly night by that murm'ring brook,
When they told me she might die.



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