Singers Glen
Lyrics by George E. Clark Music by John Haugland
Performed by John Haugland (vocal, fiddle) and Lon Batelli (guitar)
From Bergton to Broadway there’s no finer stockman
Than Washington Glaser, your father, my dear.
I bought my first horse from him early in autumn,
Just into the harvest, a difficult year.
I paid him in work and I paid him in barley.
I cleaned out his barn and I saw you were near.
You brought me some water. I sensed you were playful.
Words tart in your mouth turned out sweet in my ear.
Meet me again at the Singers Glen crossroads.
Undo that black ribbon and let down your hair.
Be cooler to me than the forge or the furnace.
Be warmer to me than the snow in the air.
No one in Virginia’s more honest with horses:
A Mennonite farmer, your daddy, my dear.
But he won’t go to fight and he won’t stop his trading.
He’s stubborn as you but his conscience is clear.
Your daddy trades fair but your daddy trades poorly.
The counties out west just aren’t ours any more.
He trades up in Moorefield, Romney, and Baker.
The Home Guard is coming. They’ll get him for sure.
Meet me again at the Singers Glen crossroads.
We’ll try not to think about Jordan’s far shore.
Clark, Vance, and Funkhouser, Driver, and Dingledine:
I can’t stand the thought of us losing one more.
Your Pa will complain but just load up the horses,
Then take him out westward and over the hill.
And don’t you return to your farm in the Valley.
If the guard doesn’t get you then Sheridan will.
I’ve stayed here as long as I could to be by you,
Your woodsmoky laugh and your wineberry stare.
But boys of my age are all gone to the army.
I’ve heard it’s been said that I won’t do my share.
Just meet me once more at the Singers Glen crossroads.
You’re all that’s left that seems home to me here.
Our fields and our farms and our hearts are all empty.
Please know that I love you. I’m packing my gear.
At Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Petersburg, Richmond
The boys of Virginia ran over the hill.
I’ll join the replacements at New Market Station.
Oh, how I wish that the guns would be still.
Meet me again at the Singers Glen crossroads.
Undo that black ribbon and let down your hair.
Be cooler to me than the forge or the furnace.
Be warmer to me than the snow in the air.
