Hazel Creek
By: Myrtle
Laney
I
would like to go back to my childhood home,
In
the Smoky Mountains where I did roam.
We
lived on the banks of Hazel Creek,
Where
the ripple of the water would lull me to sleep.
We
would go swimming in the baptizing hole,
Where
Hazel Creek and Bone Valley meet. The water sure iscold.
Then
we would go fishing up Roaring Fork,
And
we all went to school on Sugar Fork.
When
summer was past and our chores all done,
We
would then plan a trip for the old and young.
Uncles
Wess would walk with us to Silars Bald,
To
pick up chestnuts in the Fall.
On
Christmas morning, along about ten,
We
children would stand by the railroad track.
The
train would come puffing around the bend,
With
our Christmas goodys in a little orange sack.
The
train men freely gave their time for awhile,
And
they always greeted us with a smile.
Surely
God gave them a blessing from Heaven,
As
they made that run fourteen miles from Proctor to Camp Seven.
Now,
the little white church up on the hill,
The
place where it stood is so lonely and still.
On
Sunday morning we could hear the bell ring,
Now
I loved to go and hear them sing.
We
would have a revival in the Fall each year,
People
would come from far and near.
And
each night and seven and eleven next day,
We
would all join together to sing and pray.
We
did not have no pomp or style,
We
went to meeting to worship God for awhile.
Our
friends and loved ones we would greet,
And
we took the preacher home with us to eat.
We
left our loved ones up the hill,
In
my memory I can see them still.
But
Jesus will come his children to take,
And
they won’t have to cross the Fontana Lake.