Ballad of the Great Dismal Swamp
Verse I: The Ancient Land and Sacred Groves
Where North and South in shadows meet,
Beyond the pines where echoes fleet,
Lies the swamp, both dark and grand,
A forsaken stretch of ancient land.
Beneath the crescent of the skies,
Where whispering winds and wailing cries
Sing tales that time has swept away,
Of the Great Dismal Swamp, so they say.
Before the stars bore their first gleam,
Before the colonies dared to dream,
The Powhatan and Tuscarora stood,
Guardians of that sacred wood.
Their canoes like shadows on the mire,
Skimmed past waters lit by fire,
Of lantern moon, a silver sheen,
In a world untouched, serene, unseen.
Chorus I: The Swamp’s Eternal Song
O, Great Dismal, hear our cry,
Swathed in mist where lost souls lie,
Through thicket and fen, through mud and flame,
The marsh endures though kings have changed.
Your cypress trees in silence stand,
A kingdom before man laid his hand.
Verse II: The Path of Runaways and the Maroons' Reign Through the damp, through the wild, they fled, The ones enslaved and left for dead.
A breath of hope, they sought the trail,
Through thorny vines and whispers pale.
By lantern light and starlit beams,
They carved their path of silent dreams.
The Maroons, they called, a hidden band,
Who sought no master but this land.
And there they built their homes in trees,
With swamps for walls, wind for seas.
A freedom’s realm, with nature’s grace,
A haven in that secret space.
From Virginia’s grasp and Carolina’s hand,
They slipped away into the land.
Through fire, through night, they earned their keep, Where the river’s edge runs dark and deep.
Chorus II: The Cry of the Free
O, Dismal, shield those hearts so bold,
Your waters whisper tales untold,
Of fugitive souls who dared defy
The chains that bound beneath the sky.
Beneath the moss and blackened earth,
Freedom found a silent birth.
Verse III: The Settlers’ Dream and the Strangers' Mark But then there came a different tide,
Of settlers' greed and settlers' pride.
In timber tall and soil so rich,
They saw their chance, they built their niche.
George Washington himself surveyed,
This darkened land where shadows played.
His eyes, like those of others keen,
Saw fortune hidden in the green.
The slaves they brought, the chains they bore,
To drain the swamp and harvest more.
But nature fights, and nature wins,
And soon they found that wealth wears thin.
The bog resisted every stroke,
As if the gods themselves awoke,
And cursed the hand that sought to claim
The sacred earth without a name.
Chorus III: The Curse of the Swamp
O, Great Dismal, wreathed in night,
Your depths have swallowed greed’s harsh light.
The hand that seeks to plow your land
Will find no gold, no fortune’s hand.
But those who walk with quiet breath,
May find escape from chains and death.
Verse IV: The Nation’s Birth and the Swamp’s Survival As colonies broke, as revolts rose high,
The swamp stood still beneath the sky.
A new republic took its place,
Yet feared to tread this shadowed space.
The revolution’s fires did rage,
But the swamp survived each passing age.
By water’s edge and moon’s dark glow,
The marooned still moved, still lay low.
The swamp their fortress, fierce and wide,
A land no master dared to stride.
And as the fledgling nation grew,
And claimed its stars in skies of blue,
The swamp remained, a mystery,
A refuge in a land now free.
Chorus IV: The Silent Watcher’s Song
O, Dismal, vast and dark, yet wise,
You’ve seen the fall of empires rise.
You’ve cradled those who sought the light,
Beyond the chains of iron’s might.
Your history flows like water still,
In roots, in reeds, in whispering rills.
Verse V: The Aftermath and Legacy
Now centuries pass, the battles fade,
Yet still your waters wind in shade.
Though drained and dredged, though roads are laid, The heart of you has not decayed.
Your cypress arms reach out in grace,
To shelter those who...
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