https://soundcloud.com/wabash-cannibal/ ... ons-medley
Strange Apparitions
Pt. I
Mast in the Mist © 2019 Ricki Bellos/Robert George BMI
He walked along the shoreline as day sank into night
Saw an old jug of white rum washed up with the tide
Climbed the steps to the lighthouse on that Carolina cliff
Thought he’d drink some sweet rum to help pass his shift
Clocks struck the witching hour as he gazed on Skeleton Rock
He dropped his jug fear chilled his blood at what slipped from the fog
A ship with three silver sails that starlight bent to kiss
Colonial flag-a-wavin’ from a mast in the mist
Well, he pointed his spotlight toward a rock shaped like a skull
But not before its stony teeth bit through that wooden hull
Two lifeboats hit the water, crew and captain were all saved
But light from the moon shone on the tomb that chained three hundred slaves
Though the captain’s laundress had eyes a violet blue
There was no space for her dark face among his scurvy crew
Pulled down by those foamy fingers to a salty abyss
She went there clinging to a mast in the mist
Well, he woke up at sunrise, cast that jug into the seas
He thought of slaves in briny graves and wept upon his knees
O that ship had stopped in Haiti to trade for rum and furs
When it left port it had aboard a blessed curse
To those horsewhipped slaves, death became a gift
When one and all rose again unlike that mast in the mist
Tonight there’s a lighthouse keeper walking some New England shore
Where a jug of mystic rum washes up once more
And ev’ry spell that old jug cast
Was a journey to a shameful past…
Pt. II
Lantern on Willow Hill
There was an old skull on a stake,
high upon the plantation gate
as a warning to any who'd run
but wind whisp'ring through its eyes,
told every slave to rise
and run for the sake of their sons
hushed words hovered in negro shacks,
'bout a train on a freedom track
that took runaways past Baltimore
and Seth sawed on his fiddle at night,
he knew if those rumors were right
the signal he was looking for
was a lantern on Willow Hill
hung low on a steady limb
a flame burning for the free
when moons were down and light was dim
Massah sweated on his sickbed,
with Missus wringing rags on his head
and having poultry mashed for his meals
but his son beat negroes like steeds,
till they spit teeth like melon seeds
and old women fell cold in high noon fields
and Seth imagined how long ago,
his mother rocked his cradle slow
now the hands of time rocked her grave
he fiddled for her after dark,
he knew in the pit of his heart
if there was light left for a slave
it was the lantern on Willow Hill
hung low on a steady limb
a flame burning for the free
when moons were down and light was dim
freemen snuck in early from the north,
they bore the risks back and forth
when the train was near they flashed the light
Seth grabbed the fiddle by his cot,
he left the rest of his past to rot
when he hopped that gate in the night
Massah's son roused a dozen hounds,
that could sniff track a shadow down
they chased Seth through swamps and riverbeds
but Seth made it safe to that hill,
three screech owls and a whipporwill
watched Massah's son take one to the head
near the lantern on Willow Hill
hung low on a steady limb
a flame burning for the free
when moons were down and light was dim
three freemen led Seth to that track,
the only way he looked back
was with his mother in his eyes
night was still...they were safe for now,
but they each knew devils somehow
always return in a diff'rent guise
steam soon mixed with silver fog,
and the low moans of mourning dogs
mixed with fiddling on the train
well Massah's son was never found,
but shadows took the oil lamp down
and candles in a three-eyed skull became
the lantern on Willow Hill
hung low on a steady limb
a flame burning for the free
when moons were down and light was dim
pt. III
Ghost Train On the Trestle
Deep within the woods of Caroline
Mist is thin among the midnight pines
Is that starlight on the railroad steel
Or the shimmer glow of haunted wheels
It casts no reflection
On the muddy river
When the coal car passes
Even shadows shiver
Half moons hang the lantern
Hoot owls are the whistle
Steam up to the heavens
Ghost train on the trestle
Long ago a secret northbound train
Carried people from the chill of chains
Bullwhip scars across their naked backs
As that engine whispered down the tracks
It casts no reflection
On the muddy river
When the coal car passes
Even shadows shiver
Half moons hang the lantern
Hoot owls are the whistle
Steam up to the heavens
Ghost train on the trestle
It was blues and old field hollers
That soon began to pass the tale
Slow train crawlin’ cross the water
And dynamite along the rails
And when slaves rebuilt the river bridge
They heard freedom ringing from the ridge
Cos the darkest track to liberty
Sets a desp’rate soul forever free
It casts no reflection
On the muddy river
When the coal car passes
Even shadows shiver
Half moons hang the lantern
Hoot owls are the whistle
Steam up to the heavens
Ghost train on the trestle
©2018 Ricki Bellos/ Robert George