Hayfork 1852

A new song loosely commemorating a massacre of Native peoples not too far from here...

Hayfork 1852



[Man] The miner digs with a tin pan
River’s icy and running fast
The scent of her body lingers
A beauty so young
What he left he left undone

[Woman] “How’s your luck holding out, man?”
The woman calls from an iron bridge
Loneliness like a bloodstain
Burning like gold
What is left is left unsold

O you paid your dues
Walking in their shoes
Red white the blues
You don’t suffer fools
You paid your dues
Somebody win, somebody gotta lose

[Man] The miner says “I’m a damn fool
Slaving here eleven days
S’waste of time panning Hayfork
River is cursed,
They tell me 9 to 5 is even worse”

[Woman] The woman blinks at her old man
Twenty-four and there’s not much more
They’re down to whisky and Saltines
Scars and disease
Pretty soon they’re scheming like thieves

Chorus

[Woman] The woman gazes upriver
Men and women and children too
Bodies broken and bleeding
A dream is a ghost
Vanishes when you need her most

[Man] The miner smokes in the doorway
A final drag and he disappears
Lilies grow in his footsteps
River runs red
What is left is left unsaid.

July 2015