(C. Woodsmith)
Word came from up the road
Polk County is filled with gold
the air is sweet the river's low
they say the livin's fine.
There a man can wave his hand,
an ounce of gold in the pan
pack the wagon and the bride
start a better life.
Look down the river
the water swirling
isn't that a lonesome sigh?
Look up the train tracks
no freight a comin
you know you'll wait your whole life.
Tied to a ball and chain
a golden lock, a golden chain
the fever hits you all the time
rusts you like moonshine.
Green River took many lives
not the ones just drowned and died
families it starved thin
the ones it drove to sin.
Look down the river
the water swirling
isn't that a lonesome sigh?
Look up the train tracks
no freight a comin
you know you'll wait your whole life.