Stories, Old Ragged Verse, Letters to and from mountain cousins by Storyteller and Appalachian Humorist Stephen Hollen. Enjoy the humor and bittersweet memories of Eastern Kentucky and a place where the mist crawls down the mountainside ''like molasses on a cold plate''
Sunday, March 16, 2003
Mountain Song
Heart of the mountain,
coal dark and deep
Riches beyond measure
None for me
Tobaccer in the field,
Hangin' in th' barn
Good cash crop
But not for me.
Sing a song of black lung
Pay me in scrip
Take mountain's treasures
Leave me without breath.
Deep neath the mountain,
Or plowin' in the field
Verse may be different
Chorus' still the same.
Old men on porch now
Hackin' out their lungs
Companies gone, done here
Pension never was.
Sing a song of COPD
Suckin' on a cig,
Tobaccers good, tobaccers bad
Just take another drag.
Widowed women, aprons pressed
Sittin' in a row
There in a nursin' home
On the public dole.
Sing a song of broken dreams,
Riches carried off
City folks made lots of dough
Yet none for me
None for me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment