He walks alone and sings a high lonesome tone,
The wind chords the old modal sound.
No one will hear his harmonic cry, there’s nothing to temper his fear,
And no one embraces his tear.
Sometimes it is easier on the solitary path,
Sometimes it is easier alone,
Alone gives me strength is his mournful discord, yet he knows it all is a lie,
But only the wind can tell why.
Like a piper he plays the old mountain refrain,
Like a bird the melody flies,
The noise of the world leaves in a song, in the wind his troubles will go,
From that man with the high lonesome tone.
© Copyright 2007, Paul Thompson
Just an old-time mountain poem I had the idea for.