Some men they walk on Montford
Some women walk on clay
Some come here seeking comfort
Some come to laugh and play.
No one gets through without working
But you can drop really far
Some people come to fight it
For rent they sell their car.
There end up a crop of crack whores
And a slew of hippies too.
None of them mow their lawns now
None of them own shampoo.
They have their freckled babies
They work at the whole-earth store
They publish alternative weeklies
They preach to the same crowd, bored.
Then the police department
With nothing better to do
Comes out to bust heads open
Asheville’s darkest blue.
The rift here goes back a long way
The loggers and the Vanderbilts
Those with the money on one side
And those with the stills and quilts.
So here come a bunch of craftsmen
And a load of ne’er do wells
Some find a form of heaven
Some find a brand new hell.
The coal fired plant over yonder
It spews a terrible stench
And then when the cars come visit
Bele Chere is an ugly mess.
So drink up ye merrie masons
Drink ’til your livers rot
Marvel at the Deco buildings
Visit Tom Dula’s plot.
Richie sings of a new beginning
This better be more than a trend
You started a new idea
Now see it through to the end.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.