BLACK WATERS
(Jean Ritchie)

  A                        E          A
I come from the mountains, Kentucky's my home
                                      E          A
Where the wild deer and black bear so lately did roam
       D                                      A
By the cool rushing waterfall the wildflowers dream
                                   E
And through every green valley, there runs a clear stream
            A                        D
Now there's scenes of destruction on every hand
A                         E            A
And only black waters run down through my land

       D                              A
   Sad scenes of destruction on every hand
                                   E            A
   Black waters, black waters, run down through my land

Well, the quail, she's a pretty bird and she sings a sweet tongue
In the roots of tall timber she nests with her young
The the hillside explodes with the dynamites roar
And the voice of the small bird is heard there no more
And the mountain comes a sliding so awful and grand
And the flooding black waters rise over my land

In the coming of springtime we planted our corn
In the ending of springtime we buried our son
In the summer come a nice man saying everything's fine
My employer just requires a way to his mine
Then they tore down my mountain and covered my corn
Now the grave on the hillside 's a mile deeper down
And the man stands a talking with his hat in his hand
While the poison black waters rise over my land

Well I ain't got no money, not much of a home
I own my own land, but my land's not my own
But, if I had ten million, somewheres thereabout
Well, I'd buy Perry county and throw them all out
And just sit down on the banks with my bait and my can
And watch the clear waters run down through my land

Well, wouldn't that be just like the old promised land?
Black waters, black waters no more in my land
Black waters, black waters no more in my land

Copyright Geordie Music Publishing, Inc.
recorded by Jean Ritchie
@environment @mining @water
filename[ BLAKWATR
TUNE FILE: BLAKWATR
CLICK TO PLAY
SOF

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This is a "scratch-written" song by Jean Ritchie.

Comments, Jean?

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Corrected Version:

Here is the complete text, just so we have all the corrections all together. Jim Ringer did a recording of this song on his Folk-Legacy CD, "Waitin for the Hard Times to Go." He did a great job on this powerful song.

BLACK WATERS
(Jean Ritchie)

I come from the mountains, Kentucky's my home,
Where the wild deer and black bear so lately did roam;
By cool rushing waterfalls the wildflowers dream,
And through every green valley there runs a clear stream.
Now there's scenes of destruction on every hand,
And there's only black waters run down through my land.

CHORUS
Sad scenes of destruction on every hand,
Black waters, black waters run down through the land.

O the quail, she's a pretty bird, she sings a sweet tongue;
In the roots of tall timbers she nests with her young.
But the hillside explodes with the dynamite's roar,
And the voices of the small birds will sound there no more;
And the hillsides come a-sliding so awful and grand,
And the flooding black waters rise over my land.

CHORUS
Sad scenes of destruction on every hand;
Black waters, black waters run down through the land.

In the rising of the springtime we planted our corn,
In the ending of the springtime we buried a son,
In summer come a nice man, said, "Everything's fine-
My employer just requires a way to his mine"-
Then they threw down my mountain and covered my corn,
And the grave on the hillside's a mile deeper down-
And the man stands and talks with his hat in his hand
As the poisonous waters rise over my land.

CHORUS
Sad scenes of destruction on every hand;
Black waters, black waters run down through the land.

Well, I ain't got no money and not much of a home;
I own my own land, but my land' s not my own.
But if I had ten million somewheres thereabouts-
I would buy Perry County and I'd run 'em all out!
Set down on the bank with my bait in my can,
And just watch the clear waters run down through my land!

CHORUS
Well, wouldn't that be like the old Promised Land?
Black waters, black waters no more in my land!


Source: Celebration of Life - Jean Ritchie, Geordie Music Publishing © 1971