Heart of the Mountain

Heart of the mountain
Soul of the hills
Ripped from the deepest places
Sacred, precious... valuable.
The Company doesn't care
About the heart or soul.
Heart of the Mountain
Only the black coal
Bought and sold.
Hauled away in truckloads
Hauled away with no care
Hauling precious souls
Draggin' the dead behind
Long trains to the north.

Heart of the mountains
Hauled away in carloads
Draggin' the dead behind
Burned in the smelters
Furnaces, engines, converters
To give light, steel, transportation
To those who mock
The mountains.

Weep, Weep, heart of the Mountains.

And I Shall Sing

And I shall sing
I will stand on the mountaintop
Watch the sun rise over the hollers
With tears I will watch
The first rays of light touch
Cabin and smokehouse, barn and field.
I will hear the sounds of the mountains
Simple songs of daily life
Of hope and dreams
Of the grind of each day
Struggling to make a way.
Proud voices harmonizing
Midst the smell of coffee
And bacon, biscuits and eggs
Cooked early in the dawn
Making ready for a full day.
Maybe I'll spy an old man
Rising early to milk his cows.
Just buttoning his bibs
As he walks to the barn.
I will hear the rooster crow,
As if to say to God
The conductor,
Time for the show.

And God will step
Out on the the clouds,
Look over the hills of home
Start creation's melody
He'll look down on me
As I stand on the mountaintop
As if to give me a cue...
And I shall sing.

copyright 4/16/2006 Stephen Hollen

Invited back for Sheep Dip Days!

Cousins,
I am just all a flutter this morning.  I just opened an invite to come back home to Beloved - my hometown in the hills of eastern Kentucky for Sheep Dip Days in June.  More important, they have asked that I be the official "Glutton For Mutton"! 

For those folks who don't know, that is the Grand Marshall of the Sheep Dip Days Parade.  It includes other duties such as being the Head Judge for the Sheep Dip Recipe Contest, startin' the official Sheep Dip Wrassle and crownin' Miss Sheep Dip.

I have to confess, the Sheep Dip Recipe Contest is my least favorite.  The judges must taste every item submitted.  After twenty or thirty recipes containin' sheep dip, my belly gets a little uneven.  I am fond of Birdy Sue Poovy's Dark Chocolate and Sheep Dip Cake.

The Sheep Dip Wrassle is a good time for all.  A huge mud puddle is made and 2,000 gallons of sheep dip are added.  One hundred and seven real silver dollars are tossed in (by me as the "Glutton For Mutton") and a shotgun is fired. (side note; We now fire the shotgun into the air since my Cousin Peanut fired it into the puddle and peppered all 87 contestants with birdshot!)  Oh Lordy, what a sight!  Folks reachin' down, grabbin' for silver, wrasslin' each other for what is found.  Of course, there is no bitin' allowed.

The winner is hosed down for free and gets their winnin's matched with more silver dollars!  Now that is good clean fun.

Orvina Snoddy was crowned Miss Sheep Dip last year.  Now Orvina is 78 years old, but she won since it was the "Sheep Dip Year of the Environment".  The Judges had determined the gal that recycled the most in one month would be declared the winner.  Orvina won because Henry Kay had all the old cars that were up on blocks back behind his barn hauled in and weighed.  Fourteen cars, imagine that!

Well now, Cousins, I reckon I better get on the phone and order my official "Glutton For Mutton" fleece kilt and matching vest.  If I don't order now the hide won't have time to cure an' the smell of uncured fleece kilts in summer can be what folks call "off puttin".

Crazy Quilt

It is like a quilt
Sewn carefully
From patches and
Scraps left
Yet lovingly
Made and
Well used.
Warm and inviting
Wrapped around me.

copyright 4/1/06 Stephen Hollen

Tattoo

Tattooed man sits
Skin crawls
Little devils dance.