Kumbrabow
© 2007 Ron Perrone
Poem and Music by Ron Perrone

<<play the tune>>


To those who sing the forest free,
Honor, peace and blessed be.
But gold to rust and dreams to weeds,
Cursed are them who killed the trees at Kumbrabow.
Remember Kumbrabow . . .
       
The giant oaks at Kumbrabow were a glory to behold,
But to the Lords of Waste and Want there is no room for the old.
And the eyes in Charlie Felton’s head would take all that they could see,
And the Sylvan temple tall and fair was timbered to its knees.
You could count the rings as they were sawn,
Three hundred years and now they’re gone.
Do we toe the line?
Do we screw ourselves down and do we turn away?

Running fast is for running scared,
You can check out any time if you lose your nerve.
And the consciousness is upon me but what do I know?
If you can’t tell the pigs and the preachers
From the killers on the evening news,
Do you roll up your windows?
Do you buckle up tight and just turn the key,
And ride away, cruisers?

So its gold to rust and dreams to weeds,
And cursed are them who killed the trees at Kumbrabow.
And there is danger upon the road
In the realm of waste and greed. 
And there is peril in each decision
As our blue world fades.
And our blue world fades,
And I am hearing a call to arms.
Remember Kumbrabow as this green flag unfurls.
Remember who you are, you Children of America,
And save a dying world.

Children of the forest and the field and town,
The hour is late, better stand your ground.
We who dwell in the belly of the beast,
We can turn his head, we can take him down.