Harlan's Holler
~ Harlan’s Holler ~
Dean Kuch
©2014
The locals say, in the light of day
one can visit Harlan’s Holler,
stay on the path
don't incite the wrath
of the man who lost his daughter.
The townsfolk say, to this very day,
you can hear poor Charlotte cryin.'
Beneath silv'ry moon,
where young lovers swoon,
as she lay there, slowly dyin'...
In the August heat, with tiny unshod feet,
Charlotte ventured into the Holler.
She soon lost her way
when the light of day
Gave way to midnights squalor.
Ripe berries sweet for her mom to eat
she'd gone there for the pickin',
her bucket now full,
twirling locks a' crull,
the creeping darkness began to thicken.
She wandered for days, to the towns dismay,
poor little Charlotte could not be found.
Old man Harlan yelled;
damned them all to hell—
then placed a curse upon the ground.
No crops will grow on the ground you sow,
all your livestock will surely die,
you'll toil endlessly,
in the end, you'll be
just the same as my Charlotte lie.
You'll burn in hell, you'll see,
in the end, you'll be
just the same as my Charlotte lie...
The days dragged on under the summer sun
as the child withered to dust.
Fred Harlan died,
Bible at his side,
felled by his curse and vengeful lust.
Down on Harlan's Hill you can hear them still,
mournful sobs by Pa and daughter,
when the moon's just right,
in the dead of night,
stay away from Harlan's Holler.
Lest you tarry there—
'neath the moon, beware,
of the curse of Harlan's Holler...
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