The Singing Bridge

Chorus:Am G7 AmOne less heartbeat sounding in the land of the freeAm G EOne less pair of ears to hear, or pair of eyes to seeAm F COne less voice to tell the world the madness should endE AmOne less sister, brother, friend Am G7 AmHe traded scrubs for gloves and cap to ward off the cold Am G EHe reached out for the fallen one who lay in the street Am F CHe raised a hand in peace to put the onslaught on holdE AmFall, kernel of wheat Am G7. AmShe left to warm her frozen car so children could ride Am G EIn comfort to their schoolroom as the sun raised its eye Am F CThey took her off right there and left her babies insideE AmNo time for goodbye Am G7 AmShe watched as armed men rushed on her, with clubs, guns and gas Am G E“I am not mad at you, my friends,” a mother’s appeal Am F CShe fled the brewing bedlam but was cut down so fast E AmBlood, blood on the wheelBridge: G AmWhat do you profit if you gain all the world G AmAnd in the process lose your precious soul F CSlain ev’ry prophet, into the sea their ashes hurled EA million dead but no nearer your goalCopyright © 2026. Jean Edouard Pouliot. Free to share with attribution. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

CHORUSWe’ve gotta get ICE out for goodOut of our street, store, sanctuary and neighborhoodLet it be well understoodGotta get ICE, gotta get ICE, gotta get ICE out for good!You’re not welcome in this place.Says all gender, age and race:Get your stuff and start to packGet your ICE off of my back!No more mask to hide your face. No more spraying folks with mace. No more knees upon our neck. Show the people some respect!No more pulling us from cars,Citizens put behind bars. No more breaking down our doors. We don’t want you here anymore!No more tear gas for the crowdCursing kids is not allowedPeaceful protest is our rightGet your guns out of our sight!No more busting out our glass.No more playing loose and fastWith the laws that bind our land. Back off till you understandNo more murders on our streets. No more moms covered in sheets. No more broken teeth and bones. Go away, leave us alone!Put your guns back on the rack. Stand down from your sneak attack. Slither back from whence you came And your president the same!Copyright © 2026 by Jean Edouard Pouliot. Use with attribution. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

‘Neath January skies of silver, lead and goldBlack cap is sweeping by to shiver off the coldSmall children play alone as snow drifts in the yardDull scrape of boot and sled upon the ground so hard The empty space in my heart where you once used to dwell Will you return, my darling, none can tell The croaking of the crows, black feathers fill the skyCedars are bowing low and begging to know whyDark cloud is hanging low, no sunshine can dispelI can no longer see the one I loved so well This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

When our good old sheriff shuffled off to guard the streets of gold,We were left without a guardian of the law.Then a black-clad rider pinned a star of lead upon his chestAnd told the townsfolk that he was the law.The bank vault emptied like a drop of water in the sand.The cattle run off to his own corral.Horse thieves have took over from the honest stable hand.Good farms have turned to dusty chaparral.Dark Star—hide your women and your wares!Dark Star—’bout your troubles doesn’t care!Dark Star—Cross his orders if your dare!Will we ever see the end of Dark Star?There’s Jesse James, Billie the Kid, there’s Bonnie and her Clyde,Would shoot up banks and stores and rob them blind.They’d leave a little silver when the hungry children cried.But Dark Star never leaves a crumb behind.Someday his robbing spree will end, of this the townsfolk hope,And justice will return and peace as well,By shootout, apoplexy or the loop end of a rope.Then he’ll lead his demon posse into Hell.Music and lyrics copyright © 2025 by Jean Edouard Pouliot. Distributable with attribution.Video generated using iMovie. Image generated using Canva AI. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

Chorus:Oh tell me, where can they be? Tell me, where did they go? The Epstein files….We need to know!Which of our leaders is a monster and who’s just a naughty boy.The Epstein files….We need to know!Pam Bondi had them on her desk. She told us just as muchAnd then she said the files do not exist!I oughtn’t say that she’s a liar, but her pantsuit is on fireAnd so I… cannot resist.Mike Johnson, pure and holy told the Congress to depart.Said Rep Grijalva would just have to wait.To cast the vote to read the folder of who bedded girls not oldEnough to … high school graduate.The White House says it’s Democrats whose names are in the filesBut we prefer to see for ourselves.Cuz where there’s smoke there’s fire; would our leadership conspireTo remove … them from the shelf?I smell a rat, a big one, slith’ring through the DC hallsIn orange fur and a hay bale for his hair.If you prove me wrong then I’ll be sorry, and atone by gorry,‘Less his name is in them everywhere.Republican or Democrat, or Independent plutocratWe … are … on your slimy trail!Do not pass Go, collect two hundred dollars if you’ve blunderedJust get out….go straight to jail!Bonus verse:If you have a log in your eye, don’t point out the speck in mine—The Savior warned disciples to beware.But I see a forest poking from your sockets, are you jokingThat your sight…. needs no repair?Optional tag after final verse:Who of our leaders is a rapist and who is a pedophile;Who needs to dominate their women and molest a precious child;Who likes to traffic in teenagers and walk in as they get dressed;Whose every word attacking others is a sin they should confess;The Epstein files….We need to know! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

Won’t you come out and dance, Mister Ice Man?The party can’t start without you.We’ve swept the streets, emptied the trash cans–There’s nothing more you have to do.Put down your big gun, join the circle,Leave your goggles and helmet behind.Turn your scowl into smiles,Come and dance for a while,While the DHS loses its mind.While Kristi Noem loses her mind.While Steve Miller loses his mindInflatable frogs will step dance and clog–The steps are quite easy you see.Just pull up your zippers,And flip flap your flippers,Then one, two, three, one two and three!The unicorns beam in a rainbow-hued stream,Spreading happiness throughout the land,So clip, clip and clop,The music won’t stopTil you all have a partner in hand.The chickens and rexes, greet soldiers from TexasAnd give each a flower to hold.Abandon your line, try a new paradigm,And scrap the old rigamarole.The folks in DC, watching on their TV,Will have tantrums, spasms and fits.Oh, let them rave on while we dance to this songAnd they vibrate themselves into bits!Copyright © 2025 Jean Edouard Pouliot. Can be shared with attribution.Image generated using Canva AI. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

Won’t you come out and dance, Mister Ice Man?The party can’t start without you.We’ve swept the streets, emptied the trash cans–There’s nothing more you have to do.Put down your big gun, join the circle,Leave your goggles and helmet behind.Turn your scowl into smiles,Come and dance for a while,While the DHS loses its mind.While Kristi Noem loses her mind.While Steve Miller loses his mindInflatable frogs will step dance and clog–The steps are quite easy you see.Just pull up your zippers,And flip flap your flippers,Then one, two, three, one two and three!The unicorns beam in a rainbow-hued stream,Spreading happiness throughout the land,So clip, clip and clop,The music won’t stopTil you all have a partner in hand.The chickens and rexes, greet soldiers from TexasAnd give each a flower to hold.Abandon your line, try a new paradigm,And scrap the old rigamarole.The folks in DC, watching on their TV,Will have tantrums, spasms and fits.Oh, let them rave on while we dance to this songAnd they vibrate themselves into bits!Copyright © 2025 Jean Edouard Pouliot. Can be shared with attribution. Image generated using Canva AI. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

(Trigger warning: extreme vulgarity)Note: Ij the early morning hours of October 1, 2025, a Black Hawk helicopter dropped ICE agents into a residential bloc in Chicago, netting 37 undocumented individuals. plus others, including undressed and half-dressed children who were zip tied together and loaded into a U-haul truck. An ICE agent, challenged about detaining the children, is reported to have responded, “F**k them kids.”The following is intended to be sung theatrically between a terrified child, ICE agents, and a crowd of sympathetic onlookers that is finding its voice.Look at the sky, peer in the darknessCan you see why cable is dangling?Chatter of blades, light in the windowHide under the bed, hugging your pillowBoots on the stairs, relentlessly poundingCursing and shouts, in my ear soundingSplintering wood, Mama is screamingShutting my eyes, hope I am dreamingICE: F**k them babies, F**k them kids!Flickering beams, here in my bedroomBreaking of glass and gasoline fumesHere I was safe, mattress flips overNo more escape, soldier takeoverICE: F**k them babies, F**k them kids!Pinching my wrist, wet my pajamasMama and sis, face down on the sofaFly down the stair, glove under my armpitICE: Shut the f**k up, here on the dirt sitICE: F**k them babies, F**k them kids!ICE: F**k them babies, F**k them kids!Onlookers: Save them babies, save them kids!ICE: F**K THEM BABIES, F**K THEM KIDS!Onlookers (louder each time): Save them Babies, save them kids! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

Here’s a new song I am trying out, based on an old story I heard in church.On the gravel road that led to Jericho, Texas, a big oil man was set upon by thieves.They swapped his Silverado for skull fracture – of his ruby ring and gold watch was relieved.The man lay hurt, red rivers on his forehead – he lifted up his head to hear or see.If anyone would stop to hear his pleading on that dusty, desert road of misery.Chorus:So, who is my compadre, mi amigo? Who will answer first to Heaven’s urgent plea?The one whose journey slowed, grace and tender mercy showedIs just who a loving child of God should beA sheriff passed and then a country preacher in a mad stampede to get where they were bound.For the start of court and church they were expected and sped right by the figure on the ground.The man lay broken in the scorching sunshine, a-praying for an angel or a friend.As the sun sank low toward the far horizon, the man expected this might be the end.A Mexican without ID was passing – a-running from the border and the law.A bloody bundle in his path trespassing. He flinched at all the damage that he saw.He gave the last drop from his own botijo and lifted the poor man onto his back.He lurched to-ward the town he’s been avoiding to get the man the medicine he lacked.He found a sala de emergencias and lay his load on a cot on a quiet floor.Left a hundred-peso note, said Dios te salve. Then slipped into the darkness out the door.Copyright © 2025 Jean Edouard Pouliot. All rights reserved. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

This song was written about my Manchester upbringing — the house on Pearl and Chestnut streets where I grew up, the beautiful red mills flanking the Merrimack, Friday night football, Elm Street parades and fireworks from the Notre Dame bridge. Mostly, though, it’s about the intrepid people who came to Manchester from Québec to start a new life in a new and unfamiliar country. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jeanpouliot.substack.com/subscribe