I have fond memories of meeting with Obray Ramsey in the mountains of western North Carolina in 1963. One of the traditional songs he sang was this one, backed up with his rippling 5-string banjo (to get chords relocated correctly copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12):

SONG OF THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER
(Traditional Collected & sung by Obray Ramsey)

  C-F—C------------------------F----C------F—C-------------------F---C 
  In the mountains and the val-leys where the French Broad Riv-er flows,
  -------------G---------C--G--C---G--C----G-C------F-C 
  If it could write the his-tor-y of the migh-ty things it knows,
  --F------C----------------------------F-----C----F---C--------------F-C 
  It would write of Boone and Croc-kett, Jack-son and the Cher-o-kee,
  -----------G---------------------C-------------------G—C—F--C 
  Flowing down through Car-o-lina from the hills of Ten-nes-see.
  
  Chorus:
  C-----F----C--------------------F---C---F-C----------F---C 
  Come and sit down by the riv-er, ling-er with it all day long,
  --------G------------------C---G-C---G-C—G---C-F---C 
  You'll hear a thousand voic-es join to-ge-ther in this song;
   --------------------------F----C----F----C--------F---C 
  The far off cries of bygone days still linger in the air,
  --------G--------------C----------------------G----C---F---C 
  On the banks of the riv-er, you can hear them sing-ing there.

From the Pink Pits to the Painted Rocks the Indian made his stand,
Up and down the river, with his bow in his right hand;
Coming from the lowlands, dressed in buckskin, with a gun,
The white man pushing westward, the setting of the sun. (CHO)

From the Big Bald Mountain, down the Edge of Tennessee,
That's the Laurel Valley with its trace of Cherokee;
To the Mountain Island, Laurel River rolls along,
Flows into the French Broad, as she sings her mighty song. (CHO)

Up the French Broad Valley you can hear a lonesome sound,
That's the deer hound baying as he runs the black buck down;
Heading up some mountain glen, he makes a running fight,
He's heading for the balsalms, he's fighting for his life. (CHO)