The Ballad of William Sycamore
Tom Russell Lyrics

My father was a mountaineer
My father was a skilled mount climber and physically strong.

His fist was a knotty hammer
His fist was rough and strong, like a hammer made from a gnarled piece of wood.

He was quick on his feet like a runnin' deer
He was agile and nimble, like a deer running through the forest.

And he spoke with a Yankee stammer
He had a stutter in his speech, common to those from the Northern USA.

And some are wrapped in linen fine
Some people are buried in expensive linen.

And some like a godling's scion
Some people are treated with reverence and buried with great pomp and circumstance.

But I was cradled on twigs of pine
But I was born in a rough, rustic environment, surrounded by pine twigs.

In the skin of a mountain lion
I was wrapped in the skin of a mountain lion, indicative of my father's prowess as a hunter.

I lost my boyhood and found my wife
I grew up quickly and soon found a wife.

A girl like a Salem clipper
She was a beautiful woman, like a ship from the city of Salem known for its beauty and craftsmanship.

A woman as straight as a hunting knife
She was a strong and unyielding woman, like a sharp hunting knife.

With eyes as bright as the Dipper
Her eyes were shining brightly, like the stars in the constellation of the Dipper.

We cleared our camp where the buffalo feed
We set up our home where the buffalo grazed and fed.

Unheard of streams were our flagons
We drank from streams that were not well known or familiar to others.

And I sowed my sons like apple seed
I raised and instilled my sons with the values and traditions of our family, like planting apple seeds to grow new trees.

On the trail of the Western wagons
We followed the trails of the western pioneers who migrated and built new settlements in the West.

They were right, tight boys, never sulky or slow
My sons were well-behaved, respectable and quick to learn.

A fruitful, goodly muster
My sons were a productive and sizable group.

The eldest died at the Alamo
My oldest son died in battle at the Alamo.

And the youngest fell with Custer
My youngest son died in battle with Custer.

The letter that told it burned my hand
Upon receiving the news of my sons' deaths, the letter felt like it was burning my skin.

I smiled and said, 'So be it!'
I accepted their deaths with a smile, understanding that they died doing what they believed was right.

But I could not live when they fenced my land
When my land was taken away from me and enclosed by fences, I lost the will to live.

Oh it broke my heart just to see it
I was heartbroken to see my land and way of life taken away from me.

I saddled the red, unbroken colt
I rode a young and untamed horse with a red coat.

I rode him into the day there
I rode him out into the open, through the day.

But he threw me down like a thunderbolt
The horse threw me down to the ground unexpectedly and with great force, like a bolt of lightning.

And he rolled on me as I lay there
The horse rolled over me as I lay on the ground.

Now I lie in the heart of the fat, black soil
I am buried in the rich, fertile soil of the earth.

Like the seed of a prairie thistle
Like a seed from a wildflower, I was planted in the earth.

It has washed my bones in honey and oil
The earth has covered my bones in a thick, golden mixture like honey and oil.

And it's picked 'em as clean as a whistle
The earth has cleaned my bones completely, leaving them as white and pure as a whistle.

And my youth returns, like the rains of Spring
As I am buried in the earth, memories of my youth return to me, like the renewal of life during Spring.

My sons, like wild geese flying
In my final moments, I imagine my sons in flight, like wild geese soaring through the sky.

And I lie and I hear the meadowlark sing
I am comforted and at peace, as I listen to the sweet song of a meadowlark.

And there's much content in my dying
In my final moments, I am at peace and content with the life I have lived.

Go play with the town you have built out of blocks
Go ahead and continue with your modern and artificial way of life, built from superficial blocks.

The towns where you may have bound me
The towns that you may have forced me to live in.

I sleep in the earth like a tired old fox
I am at rest, buried in the earth like a tired old fox.

And my buffalo have found me
In death, I have reunited with the buffalo that once roamed freely in the land I once called home.