John Alley

John Alley lived in a valley town
where the river flowed up instead of down
the noonday sun was black as night
the springtime rain was an acid blight
sweet green hills gently rolled
over ancient rivers of jet black coal
open wounds ripped the ground
John Alley lived in a smokestack town.

John Alley was a crazy man
thought he could live
by farming the land.

John Alley was born in 1911
in a wooded glade, earthly heaven
golden fields and hillside streams
nourished his soul and fed his dreams
rich red dirt, sweet clean rain
livin’ off the earth got into John’s brain.

John Alley was a crazy man
thought he could live
by farming the land.

They buried John Alley in ‘75
there was no difference dead or alive
nobody cared and nobody came
to see the dirt fall on his unmarked grave
I wish that I was there
to shed a tear and show I cared
I wish my tears of hurt
watered purple wildflowers in the Pennsylvania dirt. . .

For John Alley
one crazy man
thought he could live
by farming the land.