Hollow Hills

by

Barb MacLeod (1974)

C EmA: As a child I'd often hear F GStories of the last frontier C EmFar beneath the Ozark Mountains F GOf my home, my thoughts would go; F I was young and fair and free Em FWhen the caverns called to me, C Em F CAnd through all the years I've loved that world below.

C AmB: Yes the friends I made were good, F CAnd we roamed as cavers would, C E mThrough the wooded hills and hollows D GSeeking out the secret lore; FTwas a Brotherhood of night, C EmCrystal pools and pure delight, C G CWe were few, and it was ours forevermore. Chorus: C Em FHollow hills, where time stands still, C AmLoved you then and always will; C EmThough a decade's changes tarnish F GWhat a million years have done; F Though I know we're all to blame, Em F

Can't go back the way we came C Em F CAnd like all frontiers you'll soon be overrun.

A: For awhile I went away, Lived a life of night and day, Followed mountain streams to Silent glaciers, wandered meadows high; Scaled the peaks 'neath heaven's dome Til' my limestone called me home, With its tales of earth and dreams of days gone by. A: But our brotherhood had grown, Left its mark in pool and stone; And the spirits of the hills had fled, I knew they weren't around; And the empty corridors, Carbide names on walls and floors Told me I'd somehow betrayed my sacred ground. (Chorus) B: Friends of old have come and gone; Guess it's time for moving on; For together we're too many-long Ago I should have known; Most of them, they're just like me, Lookin' for someplace to be; I'm headin' South where all the footprints are my own. A: Yes, the years will come and go, Like the water, they will flow; And the ages will reclaim the hills |We thought we understood; But for now it makes me sad, Thinkin' on the time we had, And we let that time go by, as cavers would.

(Chorus)

Life is Like a Carbide Lantern

by

Barb MacLeod

Tune: "Life is like a Mountain Railway," Traditional.

CLife is like a carbide lantern,

F CWith a plugged up water drip.

CAs you sputter through existence,

C G7You will carbon up your tip.

CWith a felt of fate all sodden,

F CAnd a spark of hope kaput,

Keep your thumb upon the flintwheel,

G7And your eye upon your foot.

Chorus 1:

F CYou must bear life's broken gasket,

G7Leaking troubles all the while;

CBut keep a shine on your reflector,

G7 CThrough the countless dents of trial.

Life is like an endless cavern,

With a stream of neck deep mud.

As you drag the tape of toil,

You must run before the flood.

Though your survey team forsake you,

In the water crawl of strife,

You must heed your obligations to the catacombs of life.

Chorus 2:

Though you never make your closures,

And your stations wash away;

Keep your mind upon life's purpose;

Try to map a mile a day.

In the labyrinthine mazes,

you will surely lose your way;

Searching for one survey station,

Through the night, throughout the day.

Cling then to your inner virtue,

Though your light begins to fail,

Keep your eyes upon your footprints,

Never quake or never quail.

Chorus 2

Searching through the corkscrew passage,

Into which your pack you tossed,

You will find your compass broken,

And your only pencil lost.

You will howl in desperation,

Throw your notes into the pit;

For this cave of tribulation,

You will often feel unfit.

Chorus 2

You'll forever ask the question,

Why did I get into this?

Turn my back on rain and sunshine,

All those pleasures that I missed.

From the depths will ooze the answer,

Quote the mesmerizing call;

That the day is coming nigh when,

Into glory land you'll crawl.

Chorus 2

Plastic Justrite

by

Barb MacLeod (1973)

Tune: "Plastic Jesus," traditional.

CNow Justrite's got a new device,

FSuperior design, economical price,

C                                         G7Construction unexcelled in quality;

CIt has an unadjustable water drip

FA styrofoam felt and a plastic tip

C                 G7                 CAnd other blessings of technology.

Chorus:

C                     FPlastic Justrite, plastic Justrite,

C                                     G7Melted on the front of my hard hat;

C Shoulda known better than to go and trust you;

FIf I ever get out I will stomp and bust you;

C                     G7                         CUnderneath by Jeep I'll squash you flat!

Sittin' in a cave as black as midnight,

Cause I got a brand new plastic Justrite

Oozing off the front of my hard hat.

The lamp was fine, it was workin' OK,

I was trucking down a virgin passageway

Then it belched and melted out and that was that.

The Death of Floyd Collins

Tune: Traditional (actually, it's not, but by now it's probably in the public domain, so let's claim it as traditional.)

As sung by Al Craver (Vernon Dalhart), Columbia 140627

C F COh, come all ye young people and listen while I tell,

G7The fate of Floyd Collins, the lad we all knew well,

C F CHis face was fair and handsome, his heart was true and brave,

G7 CHis body now lies sleeping in a lonely sandstone cave.

Oh , mother don't you worry, dear father don't' be sad,

I'll tell you all my troubles in an awful dream I had,

I dreamed I was a prisoner, my life I could not save,

I cried "Oh must I perish within this silent cave.

The rescue party labored, they worked both night and day,

To move the mighty barrier that stood within their way,

To rescue Floyd Collins, it was their battle cry,

"We'll never, no we'll never, let Floyd Collins die."

But on that fateful morning, the sun rose in the sky,

The workers still were busy, "we'll save him by and by,"

But oh how sad the ending, his life could not be saved,

His body was then sleeping in the lonely sandstone cave.

Young people, all take warning from Floyd Collin's fate,

And get right with your maker before it is too late.

It may not be a Sand Cave in which we find our tomb,

But on that day of judgment, we too must meet our doom.

Harry Snort

by

Spike Werner

(from the Spelunker's Songbook)

A predatory caver had begun to drool and slaver,

For he'd heard of the Kentucky underground

Which was rich in gypsum flowers, helictites and onyx bowers,

And where once archaic miners did abound.

Chorus:

Oh! Harry Snort, there's no other

A fellow that a vampire bat could mother!

One morning in a drizzle he packed his maul and chisel

His helmet, and his hundred feet of rotten sisal rope

He took a pint of liquor and his trusty old lock picker

His dynamite, his carbide light, and a bar of Dial soap.

In a paroxysmal tizzie he stuffed his old tin lizzie

Until the springs were groaning from the load,

Then down the road he purred alone, his friends preferred to stay at home

Than trust themselves with Harry on the road.

Then he barreled down the highways, shook the cops along the byways

And gave the guides the slip as he whistled through the park

He wheeled his crate into the brush, and in the evenings woodland hush

Repaired to Salt's Cave for his vandalizing lark.

With his pathogenic tremor he dropped his lamp's tip reamer

But with typical abandon, he plunged into the dark.

He wrote his name upon the door, he strewed his carbide on the floor

Caveman Harry makes his mark.

The cave was not quite damp enough to fill is carbide lamp enough

He blundered as he plundered indiscriminately on

So when his lamp had flickered out, he groped about, he tried to shout

But only bat chirps answered him, and they, in time, were gone.

The walls still bear the scratches of Harry's sweat-soaked matches

And the bats still tell their children of Harry's last moans.

When he dropped his bag of artifacts and swallowed his last Atarax,

And ghosts of thirty centuries wrought vengeance on his bones.

Oh the moon shines gray and ghastly through the inky nite, and vastly

Illuminates the spirits of a thousand phantoms brave

As nightly on a sharpened pole they spit poor Harry's tortured soul,

And roast him screaming at the mouth of Great Salt's Cave.

Beery Bleary Night

by

Tom Miller

Tune: Don McLean, "Till Tomorrow Night"

G GBeery bleary night,

Am7Scattered kegs of ale and stout;

Suddenly they all gave out;

D7And Harold spoke of doing Papoose Cave.

GSober we were not,

Am7But all of us, the drunken lot

Kicked Tom the guide, a passed out sot,

D7 GDonned lamps and hats and started for the void.

G Am-D7Now it all came clear;

G Bm-EmEven through our haze of beer;

Am D7No Kamikaze would have ventured here,

EmAnd yet the bottom was so near.

A-D7Denny pleaded, finally left the pack,

GBut we would not turn back.

Brian faltered fast,

Somehow we knew he couldn't last,

espeically on the deepest shaft

For jumping every pit can do you in;

Bruce became the next,

Feeling rather oversexed,

He and Peggy asked they both be left;

We heard them laughing, squirming in the mud.

Now we asked ourselves,

Where di we all go wrong?

This should only happen in a caving song

Afraid our stay had been too long,

We tried to leave the twisted maze

But stumbled deeper in the cave.

At the thinnest pinch,

Harold never gave an inch;

So we haven't seen him since,

Two hundred pounds and squeezes just don't mix.

In the rear was Jim,

the chimneys were to wide for him,

He fell in, was too drunk to swinm;

We heard him screaming down the waterfalls.

For we could not leave now,

Our Brunton lost a screw

CAnd when all hope was out of sight

CmOn that beery, bleary night

F7 with a B E7With Denny's farewell parting ringing true:

A7"I could have told you,

CThis cave was never meant

D7 GFor those as pitiful as you."

Battered brainless flesh,

Flowstone walls a bloody mess,

Out of six, five cavers less,

A comedy of errors underground;

Siphons Tom knew well

But as he left the last rappel

He dropped his Jumars, down they fell

And then the pent up stream began to rise.

Now I understood

What Denny tried to say to me

And now he suffered for my sanity,

And why he hid my boots from me;

I would not listen, I had made a vow,

It's too late to listen now.

Histoplasmosis

by

Barb MacLeod

Tune: Original

C AmA sad story I have to tell,

C AmAbout a caver I knew well.

EmHe frequented the places where the rain never falls

F GWhere the sun never shines, where on water fluted walls

AmBats do dwell.

He took his topo map and went to scout,

For a cave he had always heard about.

He had talked to all the farmers and he listened with a grin

To the story that they told him where four people had gone in

And not come out.

He was warned by everyone to stay away,

That he shouldn't go beyond the light of day

Where the enemy was luring in the dry and dusty air

But to him it made no difference, he decided to go there

Anyway.

In a short time the entrance he had found,

Feeling just a little scared he looked around

But he saw nothing suspicious so he trolly-dotted on

Knowing nothing had ever happened in the many times he'd gone

Underground.

He took off down the passage with a bound,

He trolly-dotted through a guano mound,

He could've walked around it and it wouldn't have delayed him

But he didn't know that there Histoplasma capsulatum

Did abound.

The enemy gathered forces silently,

Waiting for the perfect opportunity.

When this bold intrepid caver with he limestone in his blood

Stubbed his toe and fell face downward in the guano-covered mud

Oh tragedy.

With disgust he raked the guano from his hair

At the time he was completely unaware

Of the sneaky little critters whose primary occupation

Was to upset respiration and effect contamination.

TB or not TB.

Mwahahahaha…..

It’s Histoplasmosis. . . .

Well they've had him in a fungus ward since then

And he's gonna be there till I don't know when

He's had to give up caving and I know he must regret it

But as soon as they have cured him he'll go caving and he'll get it

Again.

The Reduviid Song

Barb MacLeod

Oh, you’re gonna wish you hadn’t, though you now wonder why,

Ever let a reduviid take a dump in your eye;

If you do, you may be caving in the sweet bye-and-bye;

Never let a reduviid take a dump in your eye!

A sad tale I now must convey

About the three who went away

To slumber in a cavern ‘midst the crockery of yore

Left in silent, sunless niches a millennium before

That woeful day!

They were prepared and steeped in Maya cavern lore;

The spirits couldn’t spook them anymore;

In search of ancient pottery they climbed and crawled around,

Followed broken chips of Maya charcoal scattered on the ground

As before.

Never let a triatomid take a crap in your eye,

Though they really like to do it; it just gets ‘em so high!

They’ll come creepin’ while you’re sleepin’ and your eye they’ll espy!

Never let a triatomid take a crap in your eye!

The enemy gathered forces silently

Waiting for the perfect opportunity;

While our three intrepid cavers slept unknowing through the night,

Came the hordes and herds a-scuttling

O’er the walls and down to bite

Quietly!

They awoke and saw them bloated on the wall!

They resolved to take revenge and squash ‘em all!

‘Twas a pinnacle of grossness unsurpassed to sit and batter

With a canteen as they tried to crawl away; they watched them splatter

Blood and fall!

Oh there ain’t no doubt about it; you’d much rather have fleas

Than to be the prey for just one of a kind such as these!

For although it’s claimed they’ve never had a case in Belize,

These nasty little bastards carry Chagas Disease!

(mwahahahahaha…)

They arose and packed their gear disgustedly,

Left the cave to greet the morning sullenly,

Half-suspecting, but not knowing, that those beasties fat and juicy

Had exposed them to the onslaught of Trypanosoma cruzi

Oh, tragedy!

Well their chances of a cure are nearly nil,

But they’re maybe gonna ship them to Brazil,

So for those of you who’d like to travel south and carry on,

Don’t forget what lurks in crevices, or with them you’ll be gone

O’er the hill!

Never let a reduviid take a TWEET! in your eye;

If you get kissed by the kissing bug you can kiss your TWEET! goodbye!

Now you’ve listened to my story and you ought to know why

You should never let a triatomid SHIT in your eye!

A sad tale I’ve told you today

About the three who went away

To slumber in a cavern ‘midst the crockery of yore

Left in silent, sunless niches a millennium before

That woeful day!

(Combines with )

Now you’ve listened to my story and you ought to know why

You should never let a reduviid dump in your eye;

If you do, you may be caving in the sweet bye-and-bye

Never let a reduviid have the chance to take a dump in your eye!

Forever On A Flowstone Moebius Strip

Barb MacLeod

Within us all, we’ve heard the call that echoes from below—

A most elusive yearning,

Years I’ve watched it ebb and flow;

Makes us plumb the deepest chasms

‘Cause there’s somethin’ there to know;

Though the way is long and hard, we always go!

Well, they say we’re seeking challenge—us against the great unknown,

Or we long like lambs to gambol in a paradise of stone,

Or we’re promulgating knowledge of the deep phreatic zone,

And we’re lookin’ for some space to call our own!

I’ve sought the truth in labyrinths

That never knew the sun;

With carbide lamp in passage damp

I’ve played the odds and won,

But the search unearthed no answers since the day it was begun,

Till I figured out just how it should be done!

So I took my pack and my sleeping bag and hauled them underground,

Thought a lot and chose a spot where silence did abound,

To see just what the cave was like when cavers weren’t around…

Turned out my light and sat there for a long, long time,

Till my hair was caked with flowstone and my gear had turned to slime;

Until the ancient muses delivered their surprise;

Engulfed in night, concealed from light, the perfect image lies!

‘Tis known to all stalagmites old and wise!

I found the crystal-covered key cemented in my grip,

While lost in contemplation of time measured drip by drip,

In ecstasy forever on a flowstone Moebius strip

Forever on a flowstone Moebius strip!

So come all you weary cavers, wherever you may be!

If you find your speculations turning to theosophy,

And you want your mirthful musings to reflect reality,

Go and sit with the stalagmites till you see…

In the dark with the stalagmites learn to be!

Turn out your lights and sit there for a long, long time,

Till your hair is caked with flowstone and your gear has turned to slime;

Engulfed in night, concealed from light, the perfect image lies!

‘Tis known to all stalagmites old and wise!

The Grand Kentucky Junction

Barb MacLeod

No one alive can hope to grasp it all,

Though through the maze of passageways

He would forever crawl;

It shall be known to ghosts alone,

And those who’ve gone before

Beneath the sweet Kentucky hills will roam forevermore.

A song is but a page of history;

To man unknown, engraved in stone

The chronicle will be;

This cavern knows the hearts of those

Who could not break the bond

Which led them on through all the years

To find the caves beyond.

Of Mammoth Cave the legends speak with pride;

In days of yore, a slave crossed o’er

A yawning pit inside;

No underground the world around had labyrinths like these,

With halls in darkness undisturbed for twenty centuries.

The smoke from ancient torches stains the walls

Where feet unshod the first time trod

The floors of silent halls;

The hills will keep their bones asleep while spirits wander free

To haunt the lofty avenues of Mammoth, Salts, and Lee.

A bridge of pipes and boards across a dome;

A challenge met—beyond were yet

New corridors to roam;

Colossal now must tie somehow

With Salts not far away,

But more than half a century

Went by before that day.

Great Crystal Cave was Floyd’s and his alone;

From voids unseen his lamp would glean

The answers wrought in stone;

Not far inside Sand Cave he died;

Perhaps his ghost had gone

To push beyond the Overlook—

To travel ever on.

The secrets of our predecessors call;

Explorers bold, their arrows old

Scratched in a narrow crawl;

The tales untold of water cold, of leads unknown to all

But those who left their names upon the wall.

In Mammoth Cave’s great rivers underground,

Where none had gone, the guides went on

And there new wonders found;

Discovery and irony

Went hand in hand again,

For left behind was Hanson’s find

Which ‘neath the valley ran.

Beneath Unknown Cave’s shafts not far away,

Connections known to ghosts alone

Between four caverns lay;

The role was cast for man at last,

Where lamps had never shown;

They found the hidden passage

Linking Crystal with Unknown.

And so it happened as it had to be:

By ’62 they’d broken through

To link the longest three;

A guarded claim behind the name

Of Flint Ridge now unfurled:

With more than forty miles, perhaps

The largest in the world.

A song is but a page of history;

To man unknown, engraved in stone

The chronicle will be;

This cavern knows the hearts of those

Who could not break the bond

Which led them on through all the years

To find the caves beyond.

Ten years of persistence underground:

Through canyons tight by carbide light

They mapped and turned around;

A southwest lead their only need

As nightfall brushed the hill;

A decade’s tales of crawlways

And indomitable will.

Flint Ridge and Mammoth Cave Ridge side by side,

And in between, a deep ravine

Explorers’ dreams defied;

Year after year they came so near

In canyons miles inside,

But Houchins Valley won again,

As hope was born and died.

At last, the westbound winding water crawl;

A lifelong dream fulfilled downstream—an arrow on the wall!

In awe they knew they’d come into

Pete Hanson’s legacy;

A timeless, joyous taste of ecstasy.

Though someone’s gone and tallied up the miles,

Announced the claims and named the names,

And filed them all in files;

To man unknown, engraved in stone,

This chronicle will be;

And every caver’s footsteps forged

The course of history.

No one alive can hope to grasp it all,

Though through the maze of passageways

He would forever crawl;

It shall be known to ghosts alone,

And those who’ve gone before

Beneath the sweet Kentucky hills will roam forevermore.