(Original poem)
Recited by Mr. W.P. Burke
Recorded in Heber Springs, AR, 7/16/53

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Oh, you grand old Ozark Mountains,
Filled with numerous rippling streams,
Filled with brooks and bubbling fountains,
Oft I see you in my dreams.

In my quiet and peaceful slumber,
Visions of you beauty come.
Mossy cliffs in countless number,
Where the ferns has ages hung.

Ancient oaks with spreading foliage,
Tall and slender handsome pine,
Mountains laid with rocks and boulders,
Brown and cracked with age of time.

Canyons deep with haggled edges,
Like a wound slashed in your side,
Like the blood from spear-cut ledges
Flows the mountains' drifting tide.

Wild flowers blooming in your valley,
Up your side and on your peak.
How could Nature make more beauty?
Where could man more beauty seek?

Let me live with the old mountains,
Let mine eyes in slumber sweep
All thy cliffs, thy flowers and fountains
Let me see thee while I sleep.

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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