For an Old Kentucky Anarchist

High upon a forgotten mountaintop lay a garden

Unattended and dry

'Twas a yard that hadn't felt childrens' feet running

For the mother long ago taught her children how to fly

Within a simple cabin, untouched by industrial hands

Sat the aged mother in her home

"You can't escape the picture frames - there's too many," she said,

"They keep me from bein' alone"

Well she spoke, "He was an honest man

He worked hard to put food on our plates

Well we had more babies than we had arms

We struggled all our lives, but the rewards were great

"And when my son came home from the war,

He rested his head on my breast

And said, 'Ma, I'm tired of being used and grinded down

I feel so low, can you make me feel like I'm the best?'"

Well my best friend truly wed a savage man

He wore her like a bad tattoo

For his only love was for a bottle

She said, "There's only one thing left for me to do

"To be wild once again, to take back my life and run away,

Set flames to his truck

He won't ever know what he's been missing; I did every day:

Joy, freedom, dance and love, dance and love"

These are the stories that this mother spoke to me

As I brought her garden back to grow

I was rewarded with a warm meal, tales never to be heard

Some call it poverty, but they'll never know

She said, "All I got is my stories and this old guitar,

My crops have all come and gone away

I got a head full of recipies enticing to the taste

And a liking to wake up and greet the day

"Got a bad back from raising my children,

From huggin' my husband so tight

Hell, I never cared much for any government;

I got my Jesus when I feel the time right"

Singin' I'm the richest I'll ever be

I embrace the world I have all around me

So sing a dying song and slap your knee

Have a taste of true anarchy, yeah anarchy

Hey!