Lyrics
Once a River
by Still on the Hill (2014)
WHEN I GO TO WATER
Kelly & Donna Mulhollan
I learned how the Cherokee greeted the dawn
They went to the water with a prayer and a song
The waves beacon me to the shores of Beaver Lake
To get out on my sailboat and simply drift away
It really don’t matter what course I might take
The wind fills my soul, when I go to water.
When I go to water I can feel my worries drown
Sinking down to the bottom
On an altar made of water I will lay my troubles down
I will rest my soul when I go to water
I got my ole cane pole and my flat bottom boat
Filled up my cooler, wrote my sweetheart a note
Said, “I’ll be back this evening, a brand new man,
I’ll heat up the grill and grab a frying pan~”
But if I catch nothing it won’t matter you know,
It fills my soul when I go to water.
Could it be the gentle rocking that sets my soul free?
Rocking to the rhythm of an ancient melody?
An inner-tube and sunscreen, something cool to drink…
A bright summer sun shining down on me…
That’s all that I need to relax, don’t ya know…
It fills my soul when I go to water.
FLOOD of ‘27
Words & Music Donna Mulhollan
Sky looked like a preacher’s frown
Clothes on the line whippin’ round
Buckets of rain pouring down as we prayed
For the levees to hold
Old man Mississippi had a mind of his own
The high waters came and washed away our home
No time to gather anything, old photographs or Grandma’s ring
Just a prayer on the wing, as we faced the flood
I braced myself against the wind
Wet calico against my skin
Felt the darkness crashing in as I climbed
Up to the rooftop
Watched the river rising high
Blackwater spreading far and wide
I nursed the baby and I cried
“Oh where will we go now?”
That night felt like eternity, I prayed to God
“Please rescue me”, that town went down in history
in the Flood of ‘27
Somehow I managed to survive
I was glad to be alive, I volunteered both day and night
At camps set up by the Red Cross
Young black men were forced to stay
Repair the levee’s without pay
Small pox took my child away
Damn (Dam) that ole river
Then Uncle Sam, he stepped in…
With promises to build great dams
All across these southern lands,
to tame those rivers.
The river finally did subside
The sky is smiling big and wide
Clouds have all been pushed aside
Now I’m starting over!
THE LEGEND OF WHITE RIVER RED
A Tribute to Phillip Steele
I couldn’t help staring at her ole floppy hat
And the fact that she always dressed up just like a man
With her plaid flannel shirt and her bright red hair
She was quite a sight at the County Fair
“HEY KID, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” she said,
I could not take my eyes off of… White River Red
Forestina Magaline was her given name
She traveled with the circus, back in her younger days
Met a carney named Jack Campbell, he was rowdy & loud
His gamblin’ game with RATS…well it really drew a CROWD.
“HURRY HURRY…PLACE YOUR BETS”
The voice of the carnival was White River Red
TALK: I grew up to be a writer, I wrote books on history
About the Jesse James, the Civil War and the Cherokee
But the story of White River Red… was one I loved the best
The rest of her story is as good as it gets!
In 1931 she bought a little piece of land
It became winter quarters for her carnival friends
When Jack Campbell died she started hauling Christmas Trees,
Fence Posts, Hay and Strawberries!
Her entourage of animals made her think of circus days
Folks came from miles around to see her BABOON in a cage!
Now White River Red…she had pockets that were deep
Secretly she helped out any one who was in need
For funeral expenses she’d spend a perty dollar
She’d throw birthday parties for kids down in the holler,
She died without a penny to her name
Didn’t have a proper stone… to mark her grave!
TALK: So I made sure that ample funds were raised
And a red granite stone was beautifully engraved
With pictures showing Forestina’s old circus life
An epitaph that read A LEGEND IN HER OWN TIME
My name is Phillip Steele and I want it to be said
“There never was a LADY like White River Red”
Rest in Peace, Jack Bland
Donna and Kelly Mulhollan
He buried my Malinda one the far side of the river
Never did he dream, that he could out live her
Oh how she loved the Dogwoods, when they were in bloom
Every day upon her grave…he placed a blossom or two
In the Month of May…he’d bring her purple violets
And Evening Primrose-June clear though August
In the Dog Days of Summer…Orange Bittersweet…
It grew by the roadside, so that’s what he’d bring!
Every day without fail, he’d visit her grave
Oct.- Nov. – he’d bring her Queen Anne’s Lace
And Lovely Winter Jasmine-when December came
A team of wild horses, couldn’t keep him away
In MAY the RAINS CAME
And flooded Rocky Branch
He tried to get across,
but never had a chance
They buried Jack Bland…beside Malinda’s grave
They were moved to higher ground…
When they built Beaver Lake
Beneath a lovely Dogwood, that blossoms every spring
No need to cross the river now…
He’s RESTING IN PEACE!
ABNER JENNINGS FERRY
Donna & Kelly Mulhollan
If the water was a little too deep and wide
And you needed to get to the other side
With a load of hides and a deadline to deliver
If your sweetheart lived down in Larue
Pretty as a picture with eyes of blue
Abner Jennings would FERRY you…
Across the White River
5 cents for a person on foot
10 cents for a man & horse
same for a man & his mule, of course!
Travelin’ down from the town of Glade
With a wagon full of good hard grain
You didn’t wanna dawdle
& you sure didn’t need to tarry
The road to the mill was crooked & long
It was quicker if you sang a mountain song
and crossed the White River on
Abner Jenning’s Ferry
A One-Horse Wagon or a pony with a cart
Only cost you TWO THIN DIMES
But a 4-Horse Carriage cost 30c to ride
Sometimes around Fishtrap Hollow
The river was no more than a little swallow
Kids could roll up their britches and wade to the other side
Jennings Ferry on down the way
Was the best darn place on a summer day
Abner never made the young un’s pay
For hitchin’ a ride
50 cents for 3 strong OX
Tethered together with a wooden Yoke
2 Cents for a goose or a gander or a goat
Abner Jennings passed away
But some folks claim on a sunny day
They see his boat in the clouds, floating right along
If you listen .…carefully to the wind in the cedar and birds on the wing
You might just hear Abner sing, his favorite river song.
The CEDAR’S SONG
Donna and Kelly Mulhollan
Standing in deep water, branches bare and bleached to white
Stretched like bony fingers, reaching to an empty sky
The river’s just a memory but I’m still holding on,
To offer up a willing branch and sing my cedar song.
Lovely Green Heron, statue of such simple grace
Stop by here a little while; I will be your resting place
Red Headed Woodpecker…your numbers now are few
I will be a sanctuary if you want me to.
Young boy with your red canoe, paddle gently with your boat
Like a hundred times before to your favorite fishing hole
Tie a rope around my waist…together we belong
I will help you pass the day and sing my cedar song.
Tree swallow fill my limbs with your iridescent blues
My trunk it has a perfect hole, it can house your precious jewels.
Spider decorate my boughs and when your web is done,
Let it catch the morning dew and sparkle in the sun!
Dragon Fly rest your wings, perch upon my highest branch
King Fisher fishing’s good, stop awhile and take a chance
Down below the surface there’s a haven that is safe
Blue Gill come and lay your eggs in this hiding place.
In the blinking of an eye, somehow 50 years have passed
Everything it changes, nothing’s ever seems to last.
When the moon is on the rise and the day has up and gone
I may still be standing here, to sing my Cedar Song.
LOST BRIDGE
Donna & Kelly Mulhollan
Way back at the turn of the century
The Ozark Mountains were rugged and steep
Folks down in Garfield needed a road,
to get to Eureka Springs…I’m told
but the ole White River was deep and wide
if you wanted to get to the other side
you needed a boat, a wing and a prayer
cuz there weren’t no road-a waiting over there
Oooooo Lost Bridge, Oooooooo Lost Bridge
Then round 1929, they built a bridge it was mighty fine
Made of concrete, steel and wood
Things were looking pretty good
But they never got around to building a road
Either way…neither to or fro
Soon the Great Depression came
And all the money just floated away
Oooooooo Lost Bridge, Ooooooo Lost Bridge
For many blue moons it just sat there
A Bridge to nowhere, not a man or a mule or a wagon ever crossed
Not a Tinker or a Trader or a Traveler lost
1943 on the 7th of May, an angry flood washed her away
Big timbers on the river came crashing down
She sank beneath the waves & finally drowned
Ooooooooo Lost Bridge, Ooooooooooo Lost Bridge
Well the story of that bridge is a good one to tell
And many a man have told it well
Whoever heard of a bridge without a road
Now ain’t that a story that outta be told
Then in ‘64 the river was dammed
The core flooded all that beautiful land
Hundreds of feet ‘neath Beaver Lake
She’s tossing and a turning in a watery grave
Oooooooo Lost Bridge…Oooooooo Lost Bridge
THE BLUFF CHURCH
Donna Mulhollan
I loved those Sunday mornings when we all dressed up in our best
Mama put her bonnet on and Papa wore his woolen vest
I had just one pair of shoes now too small for my pretty feet
But I laced them up then we all walked, down to Hogscald Creek
And listened to Brother Weatherman Preach
He said, “Take your sins to the river, wash them clean in the word.
I just knew if I went down in that water
My soul would come up singing like a bird!
Church was held beneath the bluff, benches hewn from cedar trees
When the gospel echoed through the hill, swore I heard the angels sing
A waterfall it tumbled down to a pool beneath the cave
I wanted to be baptized there and Lordy I would pray
I’d be washed in the blood of the lamb one day.
And the preacher would take me down to the river
Wash me clean in the word, I knew when I went down in the water
My soul would come up singing like a bird
So Mama sewed a dress for me from flour sacks bleached white
Stitched with nimble fingers by the coal lamp light
Lying in my little bed, my heart filled with love
Listening to my Mama sing…On the Wings of a Dove
When Jesus went down, to the river to pray
He was baptized, in the usual way
When it was done, God blessed his son
He sent down his love…on the wings of a dove
Sunday came and I put on my brand new baptism gown
Mama tied stones around the hem, important to weigh it down
Plaited my golden hair, woven into one long braid
She kissed my cheek…tenderly, then we both kneeled and prayed
And she walked me down to Hogscald to be saved.
The preacher took me down to the river, he washed me clean in the word
When I went down into the water…my soul came up singing like a bird
On the wings of a snow white dove
He sends his pure, sweet love
A sign from above…on the wings of a dove.
JAY’S SONG
Kelly & Donna Mulhollan
Well I got me a friend and his name is Jay
Gonna paddle every inch of Beaver Lake
All 487 miles, counting all the coves and counting all the isles
Guess it’s gonna take him awhile
Goin’ down Joe’s Creek, Ford’s Creek
Horseshoe Bend, Northfork, Tanglewood
Come around again, Kirk Hollow, Van’s Hollow
Tip A Canoe, Mill Hollow, Penitentiary Hollow & Larue
Have you ever seen a map of Beaver Lake?
Like some old oriental dragon shape,
You never know just where your at…
It might be this way, it might be that
Hope my friend Jay’s gotta map.
Goin’ down Devil’s Gap, Slate Gap, Monte Ne
Coppermine, War Eagle…just down the way
Look out, Lost Bridge, Pilgrim’s Rest
Horn Hollow, Escalope Hollow & Ventris
All the dad-gum news and the troubles of the day
When I dip my paddle they’ll fizzle away
Pardon me please if I dare do say
Well you might set aside just one fine day
“Out there on that lake like my friend Jay”
Goin down Starkey, Prairie Creek, Devil’s Eyebrow,
Shaddox Branch, Rocky Branch, not far now
Ford’s Hollow, Fall’s Hollow, Hogscald Hollow
Goose Hollow, Sugar Hollow, Hoot Owl Hollow
Avoka Hollow, Woods Hollow, Hickory Flats Hollow
Henry Hollow, Molder Hollow, Take a good swallow
Brush Creek, Rambo Creek, Hickory Creek
Spider Creek, Whitner Creek, Blackburn Creek,
Roberts’ Creek, Richard’s Creek, Indian Creek
Pine Creek, Big Clifty Creek and FRIENDSHIP CREEK
Friendship Creek, What a nice name for a creek
Hey, why don’t we call up some friends and head down that way
Be a great way to spend the day
Hey, let’s call our friend….JAY!