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I’ve heard it said that when somebody close dies, they leave you a kind of passing gift, some invisible will where you inherit a special blessing. Bob Hewson’s final gift to me was to enlarge the one he gave me long before. I was now a true tenor, no longer a baritone who only thought he was a tenor.
And when I get that lonesome feelin’ And I’m miles away from home I hear the voice of the mystic mountains Callin’ me back home.