Oh how the Smoky Mountains,
And the Carolina Piedmont meet,
Water that carves through stone,
My, how these gentle streams,
The shining rivers owe,
Oh how a hay ride in Tenesseee,
Floods me in a dream,
Deep enough for the Tenesseee river boat,
For all her beauty, I know she will cheat,
And leave me all alone,
The surprise in her eyes,
As her valley wraps my sides,
When I flow from her beautiful hold.
My lord! the Virginia rolling hills, at the base of the Blue Ridge,
And the fathers are still in the home,
Though they welcome me in,
I do not want to ruin their mandolin,
When the Jack Daniel's begins to flow,
Like a bobcat that lost its will to live,
To the Blue Ridge--
To starve away while they play below.
Dam, how high this Catskill road climbs,
And span these turbid childhood ravines,
So much trust, we put in rust,
The red and dying maple leaves,
But if we must, return to dust,
Carve my name in only these,
The surviving iron, that spans this deadly stream.
She let's me down, on shadowed ground,
Of the Worcester Plateau,
She is an icey mother,
These hills still in winter,
With lightning during snow,
These broken hills, that melt and freeze,
So no children can ever skate,
My lord! Look at all the lime young leaves--
So tender and ready to break.