Black Powder Mountain
Just about a mile outside Pyrite Town is Black Powder Mountain,
It has a grizzly disposition and a couple of veins of mean.
Lightning licks the peak at every opportunity.
Some went up to tame it and vanished like a dream.
Some say they saw the ghost of an old Chickasaw chief.
One night, a 90-proof bet got the better of me.
I quickly packed up some grub and a fifth of bravery.
I brought my four-legged chum, for a little bit of company.
We made our way through the speckled forest.
Waded through half a dozen icy creeks.
A thick mist slithered up the neck of the valley.
That night I prayed up a little fire to keep the ghosts off the dream.
The night dealt nothing but jokers and spades.
Something brutish barreled through the forest.
My eyes were wider than the barrel of my gun.
I fired off a warning shot to keep the phantoms on the run.
Imagination was beating like a war drum.
Somewhere in the trickster's night I lost my little chum.
I never made it to the summit and lost the 90-proof bet.
A day later, as I was airing out my tent.
Out popped the faintest chant and a pale green arrowhead.
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