When the sun sets over high mountains it doesn’t get dark When the valley cools in in the evening the crinoline bark Strike a match on the stone hearth flickering light for the fire I watch the blue ridge violet hue ridge fade in the night…

Bait on the hook A curse on the town We laugh like coyotes And cry just like clowns It scrubs off of our fingers A little elbow grease and there it goes Bones in the garden Pitchfork in the hay Mice in the cupboard It’s written all…