Widow Mountain

[couchgrouch]

country/bluegrass...Widow MountainShe stands there by his gravestone, her black dress fits kinda tightglances up at that mountain, hopes his soul is safe insidecurses that comp'ny in her heart, as the preacher reads a psalmcos if they could they surely would, mine gold dust from the dawnwell, it's one more day of cryingat Cresthill Cemetaryother women's tears are dryingcos many have been buriedmossy crosses haunt the meadoweyes become salty fountainswhile clouds hang veils of shadowhigh over Widow Mountainshe stands and rubs her belly, as day rolls into nightfor now she knows his boy is, sleepin' safe insidebut if he grows up a miner, and weds a bluegrass girlodds are he'll leave a widow, who'll one day weep with herwhen it's one more day of cryingat Cresthill Cemetaryother women's tears are dryingcos many have been buriedmossy crosses haunt the meadoweyes become salty fountainswhile clouds hang veils of shadowhigh over Widow Mountain(c)2006 Robert George

[bc]

Robert,Your stuff just keeps gettin' better. I've got a killer idea, shoot me an email when you put your pencil down for a minute.bc

[couchgrouch]

thanks bc! I sent you an e-mail.