Kate Wolf Old Jerome
DRINKING EARLY MORNING COFFEE,
TALKING WITH GOOD FRIENDS, AND
WALKING THE STREETS OF ROUGH-CUT STONE
SHE WAS ONCE A MINER'S CITY,
NOW THE GHOST OF A DYING TOWN
BUT THERE'S A FIRE BURNING BRIGHT IN OLD JEROME.
SOME HAVE COME FOR FORTUNE;
SOME HAVE COME FOR LOVE, AND
SOME HAVE COME FOR THE THINGS THEY CANNOT SEE.
NOW THE GRASS IS GREEN AND GROWING
WHERE THE GARDENS ONCE HAD DIED
AND THE BIRDS SING IN THE YOUNG AILANTHUS TREES.
AND THEY SAY THAT ONCE YOU LIVE HERE
YOU'LL NEVER REALLY GO
'CAUSE SHE'LL HAVE A HOLD ON YOU UNTIL YOU DIE
WITH HER GROUND MOVING CRAZY,
HER FIERCE WIND BLOWING FREE
AND HER RUINS STANDING PROUD AGAINST THE SKY
HOUSES CLING TO MOUNTAINS
LIKE MINERS CLING TO DREAMS
THEY HOLD ON SO LONG AND THEN THEY JUST LET GO
AND THIS MOUNTAIN SHE'S YOUR MISTRESS
YOU'LL RIDE HER 'TIL YOU FALL
THERE ARE STORIES THEY TELL ON CLEOPATRA
THERE ARE STORIES THAT NEVER CAN BE TOLD
THE WIND AND THE RAIN SING THEIR MOUNTAIN LULLABY
THE COPPER SHINES LIKE ARIZONA GOLD
AND HER WALLS STAND STRONG AND SILENT
STARING OUT WITH EMPTY EYES
LIKE BEGGARS BLIND AND LAME THAT DO NO HARM
WITH THEIR EMPTY ROOMS
THAT HOLD THE OLD TOWN'S MEMORIES
AND THEIR DOORWAYS THAT REACH OUT
LIKE EMPTY ARMS
IN THE STREETS THE CHILDREN PLAY,
CLIMBING UP THE CROOKED STAIRS
AND LOVERS TOUCH AND TURN TO GO BACK HOME
AND THE SOUNDS OF HAMMERS
ECHO IN THE ONCE FORGOTTEN HALLS
AND HOPE STIRS IN THE HEART OF OLD JEROME
THE MOON SHINES BRIGHT ON CLEOPATRA
WHERE THE MINES LIE SLEEPING FAR BELOW
THE WIND AND THE RAIN
SING THEIR MOUNTAIN LULLABY
THE COPPER SHINES LIKE ARIZONA GOLD
