SONG OF THE HILLS

I was born in a cabin set back in the hills

About a mile up the creek from that old saw mill

We’d go out at night, listen to the trees

Play a sad tune with the breeze through leaves

Pa would get out his fiddle

Ma’d sing a sad song

All eight of us kids hummin’ along

Hounds sang base, daddy scratched them strings

Ghosts in the holler moaned harmonies

Them hills once watched over Indians

Clothing their women, feeding their young

But they gave ‘em up when the white man came

Now grass and weeds cover forgotten graves

But if the air’s just right

When it’s heavy with dew

Their bones start groaning under a full moon

The children are crying, the warriors moan

The women are silently singing death’s song

I like music that howls on a full moon night

That moans in pale morning light

I like the eerie sounds that sing in tune

With the deep growl bark of hounds hot on a coon

We moved out of them hills when I was ten years old

Ma took us to town when daddy’s blood went cold

Them Indian songs finally went to her head

The hills aren’t loyal, they’ll leave you for dead

I like music that howls on a full moon night

That moans in pale morning light

I like the eerie sounds that sing in tune

With the deep growl bark of hounds hot on a coon