Worth Her Salt
Sarah earned her salt in the Carolina hills
The year was 1800, they mined to pay the bills
The ground was hard and rocky, the winters were bone chilling
The Cherokee were a mixed lot, some friendly some still killing
And there in Appalachia, the life was hard on mountain folk
And salt was badly needed for preserving meat in smoke
But the salt mines were some days away right through the Indians land
But getting salt was paramount and so a trip was planned
A group of men caught traveling just might provoke a fight
A lone girl might pass safely two days and a night
So Sarah Green of 15 years when the salt ran low
Packed rations on an old plough horse and said she’d gladly go
She followed paths worn down by time and Cherokee and deer
She drank from many creeks she crossed, the water cold and clear
At night she tethered up her horse and built a little fire
To ward off all the wildlife and then she would retire
And once she got to Kingsport where the salt was mined
She purchased all the salt she could then left the town behind
Back through the woods along the path with danger all around
This little girl of 15 years was finally homeward bound
The paths she rode are now long gone, the Indians are too
Homesteaded or paved over as settlers moved on through
But the story of young Sarah and her young bravery
Lives in the Appalachia folk in her family’s memory
I read the story in a magazine and decided it was worth the effort of a poem.
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