It's a studied eye that starts it off
That sees the ball and knocks it rough
But chance has had no love for thee
For tis Simmons bent the knee
His eye is quick, his arm is long
And it's a bead on first he's drawn
Quick! He's down into the dust
And quicker still the run's a bust
For Andrelton's had his way today
And made yet one more famous play

The shouts come now from those who won
And the chant is An-drel-ton

You've heard of Old John Ford
Who lived like a Carolina Lord
He defied the king
But before that thing
He was the first man e'er to fly

Was fine bright day that drew out
To find a goose good, fat and stout
Into the woods he went
Rope in hand, by a creek he bent

A hunting man is patient, true
But when flock swam by he knew
He had too long waited
To be so easily sated
And one just would not do

So this clever fellow, a fine knot drew
And with his fine rope,
he slide down the *****
And into the water he swam

Arriving at the first fat goose
He slid the noose
Gently around the foot
And with no sudden motion
As to avoid commotion
On to the next he swam

When Old John Ford had counted nine
He figured that'd be just fine
And out of the water he sprang

In terror the geese sprang high
Said Ford "Oh I'm a clever guy"
But quickly the smile faded
For he hadn't anticipated
What a flock of nine can do

And I tell ya boy, he flew!

They took him high
Until to his earthly eye
The world looked small indeed
And he cursed his selfish greed

For days did they fly
With that greedy guy
And do you know what they did do?
They took him to Peru!

When no longer they he could carry
And I tell ya, this is scary
They dropped him there and then
And he fell into a dern bear den!

Said he, "this can't be worse,
I'll rectify this curse"
And stuck behind a cub
He grabbed it's little tail stub
And with his knife, he pricked it twice
And out from the den he was drug!

Then to find his geese nine
For after home did he pine
And for a few more days he flew
And back in Carolina what did he do?

He named that spot Goose Creek
And we call it that today

There are mem'ries here
Layered deep
Like something inside had gone to sleep
The golden hair and the single eye
There was life impossible to deny
A crooked smile
Let's talk for a while
Tell me stories of the olden days
I'll form an image like a haze
There are roots here
Dust off the cobwebs, make it clear
Removed by a thousand miles
Like old and dusty files
But there are mem'ries here
Of golden hair and a single eye
But the day has come
The layers undone
And there am I
Tied to the golden hair and the single eye

With old Henry Knox we marched past river and rocks.
Twas 75 and Redcoats had to die.
So over them mountains came my Cannon and I.
The winter set my body to freeze and the cord cut through flesh with ease
As we marched on to Boston.
The rope burns my hands and the ice bites my feet
Frost bit feet and rope burned hand
But when we win, hell, will it be grand.
Them Redcoats thought no threat would e'er come nigh.
But look up high 'cause here come I. With cannon to make the Redcoat die.
With my frost bit feet and my rope burned hand.
And when we take to Boston, hell, but it will be grand.

A chisel and a block of stone
Every blow vibrates to the bone
Sweat stings the eyes
I'll shape this man that I despise.
Each pound a declaration
I won't accept these deprivations
Shards break off and fly
Drawing blood that stains like dye
I'll draw a man out of this stone
As every blow vibrates to the bone.