My father was a mountaineer
His fist was a knotty hammer
He was quick on his feet like a runnin' deer
And he spoke with a Yankee stammer
And some are wrapped in linen fine
And some like a godling's scion
But I was cradled on twigs of pine
In the skin of a mountain lion
I lost my boyhood and found my wife
A girl like a Salem clipper
A woman as straight as a hunting knife
With eyes as bright as the Dipper
We cleared our camp where the buffalo feed
Unheard of streams were our flagons
And I sowed my sons like apple seed
On the trail of the Western wagons
They were right, tight boys, never sulky or slow
A fruitful, goodly muster
The eldest died at the Alamo
And the youngest fell with Custer
The letter that told it burned my hand
I smiled and said, "So be it!"
But I could not live when they fenced my land
Oh it broke my heart just to see it
I saddled the red, unbroken colt
I rode him into the day there
But he threw me down like a thunderbolt
And he rolled on me as I lay there
Now I lie in the heart of the fat, black soil
Like the seed of a prairie thistle
It has washed my bones in honey and oil
And it's picked 'em as clean as a whistle
And my youth returns, like the rains of Spring
My sons, like wild geese flying
And I lie and I hear the meadowlark sing
And there's much content in my dying
Go play with the town you have built out of blocks
The towns where you may have bound me
I sleep in the earth like a tired old fox
And my buffalo have found me
I sleep in the earth like a tired old fox,
And my buffalo have found me
The Ballad Of William Sycamore Lyrics performed by Tom Russell are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that The Ballad Of William Sycamore Lyrics performed by Tom Russell is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD