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Early morning mist
on the blue ridge line
Tall pines standing in the sands of time
Old coal mines sleeping in the valley floor
Wind whispering
through a cabin door
And the road winds up
where the eagles fly
Just a little bit closer to the quiet sky
Oh, Appalachian home,
where the wild wood grows Where the cold mountain water forever flows
Take me back to the ridges
and the red clay ground Where the only sweet music is the
wind's old sound
(sweet wind blow)
Grandfather's hands
carved the dulcimer wood
He sang the old hymns
of the great and the good
Now the porch swing is still in the heat of the day
But the memories here
never fade away
And the road winds up
where the eagles fly
Just a little bit closer to the quiet sky
Oh, Appalachian home,
where the wild wood grows Where the cold mountain water forever flows
Take me back to the ridges
and the red clay ground Where the only sweet music is the
wind's old sound
(sweet wind blow)
There's a strength in these hills
that the world cannot break
A peace in the valley that nobody can take (oh,
nobody can take)
Take me home... to the blue ridge line...
Where the wild wood grows... (hmmmmm)