Thunder's Mouth
Scott Ainslie
When I lived down on Smokey Row,
I kept my dreams between the cotton rows.
Those fields my books, where I wrote with my hoe.
When I lived – when I lived – down on Smokey Row.
They sold my Mama; then my Pa.
Beat me reg'lar. I carry the scars.
You were the only pure thing in my heart.
That ground was dry; that ground was hard.
We made Nashville; walked all the way.
The sun beat us down, day after day.
The gun and the rope, they sure did have their say.
At every turn – every turn – I saw your face.
If my tongue were in Thunder's Mouth,
I'd call a shout all across the South.
And the rain would wash our sins all out,
If my tongue – if my tongue – were in Thunder's Mouth.
The world we dream is just as real,
as the scars we bear and the love we feel.
And someday, if we get to choose:
You take me – you take me–you take me
and I'll take you