Harlan, Kentucky residents walking to church back in the day.
The following comes from Dexter Smith and was posted on the Kentucky Mountains Facebook page:
There’s a place in eastern Kentucky where dreams comfort me and memories to spare, In my mind I still need a place to go, High upon a mountain far away there lies a woman in a grave with no flowers, As I look at that grave my mind begins to wonder I hear a cow bell clinking in the distance, and oil wells pumping , As the old hit-and miss engine fires I can smell that oil and gas as it fills the mountain air, I hear my uncle Edd Blanton with his team of mammoth mules plowing the hillside I can hear him speak to his mules ever now and then, They’d plowed them furrows deep at the end of each row I could see him kicking that hillside plow over and starting back . As I am standing here I could hear the sound of kinfolk drawing water from a hand dug well the rusty pulley squeaking with every pull of the rope, It’s getting late , and I can hear a lonely Whippoorwill calling in the distance then I realize these days are gone, as I lay the flowers on my grandmothers grave.
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