A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

Three fellas, three coastlines, three girls they'd each swear was the reason the war had to end. Every man in the band had somebody he was writing to, so instead of picking one story we let three of them share the same tune, trading verses the way they probably traded snapshots on a long train ride—Maine, Florida, Virginia, and the same porch light burning in all three places.

Richard Perkins sings tenor here (his own biography is over on "Keep Your Kisses in Your Pocket"), backed by Frank Bellamy on bass and Walt Delacroix on baritone. The three of them got billed collectively as the Smooth Brothers, a name that had nothing to do with blood and everything to do with the fact that strangers kept asking if they were related—same height, same dark hair, same lazy half-smile, close enough to pass for triplets from the back of any hall. Frank Bellamy was born in 1916 in Duluth, Minnesota, and spent three years on Great Lakes ore boats before enlisting, which he credited for a bass voice that could carry over a foghorn without trying. He settled in Duluth after the war, ran a hardware store for thirty years, and died there in 1979 at sixty-three, having never once, by his own insistence, sung a note off a boat deck again. Walt Delacroix was born in 1919 in New Orleans, the youngest son in a family that ran a funeral parlor, where he'd sung baritone in his father's in-house quartet since he was twelve—a background he found endlessly useful for keeping a straight face through sad songs and endlessly awkward to explain to girls at USO dances. He went back into the family business after the war, and by his own count sang at more funerals than weddings for the rest of his life, dying in New Orleans in 1991 at seventy-two—presumably to a full house.

Three girls back home, three hearts we own,
Three letters folded neat…
And every night we dream of them
Till we're back on Main Street.

My girl's from Maine, where the pine trees lean,
And the harbor lights glow gold.
She writes me notes on the soft salt air
That warm me when nights get cold.
She says the gulls still circle high,
And the tide still hums its tune…
And she'll wait for me on the old dock road
Under a blueberry moon.

[Chorus]
Three girls back home, three hearts we own,
Three dreams we're fighting for.
From Maine's cool breeze to Florida's keys
To Virginia's old front door.
Oh, darling, keep your porch light on—
We'll find our way once more.

My girl's from Florida, where the palm trees sway,
And the sand runs soft and white.
She dances slow to the radio glow
On a warm St. Augustine night.
She says the waves still kiss the shore,
And the sunsets burn bright red…
And she'll save a place on the old boardwalk
For the day I march home instead.

[Chorus]
Three girls back home, three hearts we own,
Three voices calling clear.
From Maine's cool breeze to Florida's keys
To Virginia's hills so near.
Oh, darling, keep your porch light on—
We'll find our way back here.

My girl's from Virginia, where the dogwoods bloom…
Dogwoods bloom…
Dogwoods bloom…
And the Blue Ridge hums its tune.
She writes me letters tied with twine
That smell of springtime soon.
She says the hills still guard the town,
And the church bells ring at noon…
And she'll wait for me on the courthouse steps
Till her hand can rest in mine.

[Chorus]
Three girls back home, three hearts we own,
Three stars in every sky.
From Maine's cool breeze to Florida's keys
To Virginia's hills nearby.
Oh, darling, keep your porch light on—
We'll be home by and by.

Three girls back home…
Three hearts we own…
And every mile we roam…
Leads back…
To home sweet home.