I love to write for the voice. I've written a hundred choral works and almost as many songs. Writing vocal music is easy for me, almost effortless. Fun, too. The hard part is finding a suitable text.

What makes a text suitable? Simplicity, sincerity and good vowels.

Simple? When sung, English is sometimes difficult to understand. The words must be simple. As Winston Churchill said, "Short words are best and the old ones are best of all."

Sincere? Another Englishman, Ralph Vaughan Williams, said, "There can only be a few great composers, but there can be many sincere composers."

Good vowels? Ahhh, oooh, uhhh and ohhh. Diphthongs are nasty to sing. So is the short "i" as in "which." Speaking of "which," it's best to avoid texts with nasty consonant clusters like "wh" and "ch" and "st" and "sp."

The text must have something to say. It doesn't have to be great, just something. The lyrics to Schubert's most famous song, "The Trout," summarized: "A happy trout swims in a clear brook until he gets caught by a fisherman." That's a great song text? Ah, but what Schubert does with it! The sunny day, the bubbling stream, the joy of swimming and of youth, your whole life ahead of you, all of that is in the music; the text is merely the vehicle.

I said that writing songs was almost effortless. Let me explain. I didn't have to invent a tune for Kathryn Jackson's little poem "Prairie Prayer." It sang to me as soon as I set eyes upon it.

The words literally instructed me as to how I should construct the melody. Prairies are level; the opening four words had to repeat the same note so as to be musically level. Since mountains are higher than prairies and the sky is higher than mountains, the words in the second line obviously demanded an ascending melody. That's just common sense.

The words "here in the middle am I" must be placed in the singer's mid-range, half way between the notes assigned to the prairie and those assigned to the sky. That’s a ‘no-brainer.’

"Hills crowd down to the river," must be sung to a descending melody, with flowing eighth notes to suggest the river. Duh.

The climax comes when "the sky bursts out with a million stars," so, of course, the word "sky" must be assigned the highest note of the song. Finally, "nigh unto God am I" must have a reverential feeling, like a benediction.

See how easy it is? This song wrote itself. All I had to do was stay out of the way and notate it.

I think Richard Rodgers felt the same way about Oscar Hammerstein’s lyrics. He found that the melody was already implicit in the words. Just stand back and let ‘em sing.

If I had an endless supply of texts like “Prairie Prayer,” I could write a song every day.

To hear baritone Dan Hoy sing this little song, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the sheet music, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
July 20, 2014

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

I love to write songs -- by which I mean a piece of music for a singer accompanied by a pianist.

For me, it’s easy, almost effortless. Fun, too. The hard part is finding a suitable text.

What makes a text suitable? Simplicity, sincerity and singable vowels.

Simple? When sung, English is sometimes difficult to understand. The words must be simple. Winston Churchill’s advice to speakers applies for song-writers as well:

"Short words are best and the old ones are best of all."

Singable vowels? Ahhh, oooh, uhhh and ohhh. Dipthongs (two or more vowels in a single syllable) are nasty to sing. So is the short "i" as in "which." Speaking of "which," it's best to avoid texts with nasty consonant clusters like "wh" and "ch" and "st" and "sp." If they can’t be avoided, find a synonym that doesn’t have those sounds. English is, among languages, unusually rich in synonyms. Way more than in French, for example.

Sincerity? The text must have something genuine to say. It doesn't have to be profound. In fact, it’s better if the text is NOT profound. Do we really want to hear a baritone belting out Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address? or Hamlet’s soliloquy? “To Be or Not to Be?” Sung? I think not!

Consider the lyrics of Schubert's most famous song, "The Trout":
"A happy trout swims in a clear brook and then gets caught by a fisherman."

You’ll agree there’s nothing profound about that. Ah, but what Schubert does with it! The sunny day, the bubbling stream, the joys of swimming, and of being young and alive, your whole life ahead of you ... all of that is in the music; the text is merely the package the song comes in.

A good text shows you how it wants to be sung. I didn't have to invent a tune for Kathryn Jackson's little poem "Prairie Prayer." It’s already there, in the poem.

The words told me how to construct the melody. It’s mere logic. Prairies are level; therefore, the opening four words had to be sung on the same note so as to be musically level. Seein’ as how mountains are higher than prairies and the sky is higher than mountains, the notes for those words obviously demanded higher pitches. That's just common sense.

Even if you don’t read music, look at the illustration below. You’ll see the flatness of the melody on the words “Prairie goes to the” … and how “mountain” is sung a fourth higher up than the prairie and the highest note in the phrase comes, appropriately, on the word “sky.”

The relative proximities of “prairie,” “mountain” and “sky” to one another literally shape the melody.

The next words -- "here in the middle am I" -- must be placed in the singer's middle register, half way between the notes assigned to the prairie and those assigned to the sky. A no-brainer.

The next words, "Hills crowd DOWN to the river," must be sung as a descending melody, the piano’s flowing eighth notes suggesting the movement of the river. Duh.

The climax of the song comes when "the sky bursts out with a million stars." Thus, the word "sky" in that phrase must be sung on the highest note of the song.

Finally, "nigh unto God am I" must have a humble and reverential feeling, like a benediction. Those notes must be in the singer’s humble mid-range.

See how easy this is? This song wrote itself. Well, almost. Notating it was nearly all I had to do.

This craft of making the music “paint” the words is called “tone painting” or sometimes “text painting.” One of my students defined it beautifully when she said, “I love how the words and music describe each other.”

If I had an endless supply of texts like this one, I could write a song every day.

It’s a very American-sounding song and that’s no accident. The piano introduction quotes the opeining of Roy Harris’ very American Symphony #3 and the final chord is the sonority Aaron Copland made famous in “Appalachian Spring.”

There’s a bit of a Broadway feeling in the song, too. I can hear Gordon MacRae singing it. To me, “Prairie Prayer” sounds like a song Rodgers & Hammerstein might have written to include in “Oklahoma!” but then decided that it wasn’t quite up to snuff.

What do you think? Is it “up to snuff?”

Not that I worry. The “up-ness to snuff” of my music is not my call. I wrote it, yes, but listeners decide what value it has, if any.

To hear baritone Dan Hoy sing “Prairie Prayer,” click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the sheet music, click on the link above.

If you want to print this PDF and sing it in church sometime or give it to a singer you know, feel free. It's also available as a soprano/baritone duet and as an anthem for SATB chorus. Just ask and I’ll send you the PDF. No charge. My gift. I explained above how easily it came to me. All I want to do now is to pass it along.