devil white

~ text written for banjo and fuzz, my voice

The Roak boys



My boy my boy o what have you done

Your mother cries and your father has gone

Searching the valley the river and stream

The old man says he had visions in dreams


Oh why did you wander so far from the house

You know the story of the Roak boys down south

They went to the river but none did return

Some say they still hear them when the white devil burn


The river is water with currents untamed

It steals the souls of the named and unamed

So why would you play on that mudderack shore

Your footsteps now lost your voice is no more


He says he found a boot and a shirt

The same boots you wore now all covered in dirt

Searching in woods in river and creek

A boy`s voice was heard  his voice thin and weak


He followed the voice  leading him north

As in old mans dream a star was his torch

It lit up the path and down river white

But only a blue shirt was found in its light


My boy my boy o where have you gone

To play with the voices that of death belongs

They say that the Roak boys died scared and alone

Did you hear them call to lead them back home


My boy my boy o didn`t you know

The voice of the dead are paler than snow

Did they lure you down to the river deep

To join them in restless watery sleep


He searched for you day and through deepest nights

The voice that was heard made him pale with fright

Calling for those who followed the star

Lighting a path leading young boys too far


My boy my boy come back from the deep

Your mother dont eat your father cant sleep

They once lost four boys who wandered alone

And went down to the river never found their way home


Did you hear your brothers by the river that day

Did they call out your name to come in and play

The last of the brothers the one still alive

Now deep in the river four boys became five



Poetry by Ghost of Heino
Read 839 times
Written on 2018-12-07 at 23:30

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
"Rich" is exactly the word for this poem. It reads like a well-aged legend that has been handed down for many generations.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
This is rich—layers of pathos, lament, fate. Grieve for the mother, grieve for the father, grieve for the lost boys.

To hear this sung and played as you hear it would be fine.