Plenty More Left To Tell

Seek a cool, green hilltop close to the sky

Where the refreshing winds of heaven blow

And the birds spread their wings as they pass by

Seeking some destination that they only know

Then close your eyes and listen…… You will hear

Calling, calling out your name 

Old voices that you once knew so dear

Calling you back to where they laid claim

Upon the mighty land they loved so well

Across this beautiful Blue Ridge they called home

There’s so many stories they are waiting to tell

Left behind for all of us, to share and carry on

Winds of time sweep many golden memories

Paths of ancestors become streets of gold

Like the tall, tall mountains born from the trees

These are the things to cherish and lay hold

They tell their stories of hard work and sacrifice

With plenty of satisfaction, joy and pride

Knowing those big fields of corn was suffice

Putting bread on the table, knowing how to provide

Riding a wagon on an old gutted out road

If we look closely the roads are still there

Those mules worked hard and pulled many a load

Can’t ye hear the Gee’s and Haw’s still in the air

And when the noon time sun was mighty hot

They snaked out wood for the winter’s cold

Always thinking ahead and on many a trot

A way of life that should never become old

The gardens were a plenty and always bountiful

Leaving a harvest of knowledge behind

Going by the signs is a priceless jewel, so beautiful

For planting and canning from a mastermind

When the fog lays stretched across the horizon 

Remember a father’s feet hit the ground at dawn

His work never done, even at setting of sun

Leaving his footsteps and pathways to travel upon

 A mother’s calloused hands scrubbing the way she knew

Washing clothes on an old rub board many a day

 Toil and labor for her family only grew and grew

  Love and dedication became her reward in every way

And they set an example of people coming together

On hog butchering  days everybody was akin

Neighbors helping neighbors through all kinds of weather

When sickness hit, help was just around the bend

 There’s nothing as spiritual than an old timey meeting

Many a spirit-fed soul is now walking through eternity

 Can’t you still hear those old church bells ringing

Music to our ears, food for our soul through all adversity

 And when we drift far away and travel many miles

Let’s not forget where we came from, our ancestral plan

Our great heritage will surely bring tears and smiles

If we but only go back to where it all began

Seek a cool, green hilltop close to God’s creation

Climb on up and let’s sit a long spell

Mountain hospitality needs no invitation

Believe me, there’s plenty more stories left to tell

© Susie Swanson, 2015