16th Jul 2009
A Mountaineer is Always Free
The motto of the state of my birth, West Virginia, is “Montani Semper Liberi” (A Mountaineer is Always Free). One of my favorite lyricists is Alabama native, Pierce Pettis, whose song of the same title, co-written with Tim O’Brien, I think captures perfectly the Appalachian spirit:
A Mountaineer is Always Free
From the album State of Grace
I’m one of the few, proud to be standing
I walked up the pier from the coffin ships landing
My clothes were just rags, no use in this weather
But my back was strong, my hands tough as leather
I climbed up these hills till I came to the spot where I stand
I cleared these fields and I pulled up the stumps with my hands
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
Took a Cherokee bride, she gave me five babies
I sang at the wakes, I cried at the weddings
I taught all my children the songs of my youth
To dance to the fiddle and practice the truth
I carried them up on my shoulders to where they could see
The whole world before them just so they would know what it means
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
No kings and no landlords to treat us like beggars and thieves
There’s no one but God here to fear or to look down on me
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
The last stanza came to mind this morning as I thought about the direction our country is heading. We have made for ourselves a king, or at the very least a landlord (quite literally).
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The motto of the state of my birth, West Virginia, is “Montani Semper Liberi” (A Mountaineer is Always Free). One of my favorite lyricists is Alabama native, Pierce Pettis, whose song of the same title, co-written with Tim O’Brien, I think captures perfectly the Appalachian spirit:
A Mountaineer is Always Free
From the album State of Grace
I’m one of the few, proud to be standing
I walked up the pier from the coffin ships landing
My clothes were just rags, no use in this weather
But my back was strong, my hands tough as leather
I climbed up these hills till I came to the spot where I stand
I cleared these fields and I pulled up the stumps with my hands
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
Took a Cherokee bride, she gave me five babies
I sang at the wakes, I cried at the weddings
I taught all my children the songs of my youth
To dance to the fiddle and practice the truth
I carried them up on my shoulders to where they could see
The whole world before them just so they would know what it means
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
No kings and no landlords to treat us like beggars and thieves
There’s no one but God here to fear or to look down on me
No more a wanderer, no more a refugee
A mountaineer is always free
The last stanza came to mind this morning as I thought about the direction our country is heading. We have made for ourselves a king, or at the very least a landlord (quite literally).