Depressed somewhat by these thoughts, I was sitting in the bar one day when Joe dug deep in his pile of records and came up with Michael from Mountains, a song so crystal-pure and simple, so beautifully sung by a girl with a natural voice, that I felt exalted by the good feeling it produced. What was it? Only an unpretentious song about a young girl who watches a strange boy from the mountains and the things he can do with nature. She has a premonition that one day in the distant future she may know him very well. It was one of the realest songs I had ever heard, something that Schubert might have written. I asked Joe to play it again, but the singer had got into only a few bars when one of the soldiers protested, "Hell, that's an oldie," so Joe switched to something newer. The song had been written the year before.
(Contributed by Mark from Seattle)