Part 38

Let's wander down to Catlettsburg And look upon the tide. We'll mourn the changes time has made There by the river side.

Gone is the old-time waterfront That rang with joy and mirth, And known throughout a dozen states As "the wettest spot on earth."

And Damron's famed Black Diamond, The logger's paradise, Where whiskey flowed like water And timbermen swapped lies.

Here Big Wayne ruled in splendor; His right, none would deny. And Little Wayne was always there To serve the rock and rye.

And Big Wayne never failed a friend, Or stopped to chat or lie, And no one entering his doors Was known to leave there dry.

And many a time some timberman Would land himself in jail, But Big Wayne always lent a hand, And went the wretch's bail.

Some of the buildings still are there, Along the old-time ways. Silent and dark their windows stare Gray ghosts of bygone days.

No sound of merriment or song, No dancing footsteps fall; The days of fifty years ago, Are gone beyond recall.

So to Big Wayne and Little Wayne, Big Sandy's pride and boast, And to the old-time waterfront, Let's drink a farewell toast.

While to the old-time timbermen, This song we'll dedicate, Who fought their battles with their fists, And took their whiskey straight.

--Coby Preston

WEST VIRGINIA

There is singing in the mountain where the sturdy hill folk meet, There is singing in the valleys where the days are warm and sweet, There is singing in the cities where the crowds of workers throng, Wherever we meet, no day is complete, for West Virginians without a song.

West Virginia, land of beauty, West Virginia, land of song,

West Virginia, hear the singing of the crystal mountain streams, Songs of joy and songs of power to fulfill man's mightiest dreams, West Virginia, hear the singing of thy shadowed forest trees, Holding the winds, holding the floods, so that thy sons may be at ease.

West Virginia, land of beauty, West Virginia, land of song.

--Esther Eugenia Davis

SKYLINE DRIVE

The Skyline Drive is not a road To bring you near the skies Where you can sit and gather clouds That flit before your eyes, Or jump upon a golden fleece And sail to paradise-- But it is a super-mountain road Where you can feast your eyes Upon the beauties of the world The Lord God gave to man For his enjoyment and his use; Improve it if you can. The builders of this Skyline Drive Have filed no patent right That they improved upon God's plan, Nor have more power and might; But they have seen His handiwork, This panoramic view, Have paved this road to ease the load Of all the world and you. This is akin to hallowed ground, A sacred beauty shrine; Its fame has traveled all around; It now is yours and mine. There's little points of vantage--views, Where you can see afar-- Compare the beauty with that land That stands with "Gates Ajar." The people who have given much To save this precious shrine Must surely all be friends of God And friends of yours and mine.

--George A. Barker

FEUD

THE LOVE OF ROSANNA McCOY

Come and listen to my story Of fair Rosanna McCoy. She loved young Jonse Hatfield, Old Devil Anse's boy.

But the McCoys and Hatfields Had long engaged in strife, And never the son of a Hatfield Should take a McCoy to wife.

But when they met each other, On Blackberry Creek, they say, She was riding behind her brother, When Jonse came along that way.

"Who is that handsome fellow?" She asked young Tolbert McCoy. Said he, "Turn your head, sister. That's Devil Anse's boy."

But somehow they met each other, And it grieved the Hatfields sore; While Randall, the young girl's father, Turned his daughter from the door.

It was down at old Aunt Betty's They were courting one night, they say, When down came Rosanna's brothers And took young Jonse away.