Appalachia

Where’s The Boy With The Sling Shot?

Where's The Boy With The Sling Shot?

Gone Like A Candle In The Wind written by Randall Hylton

There’s two country graves on a hillside
And a farmhouse that’s wasting away

Fields that I know a man once tended with love
Grow nothing but tall weeds today

The old barn is sagging and falling
Roses grow wild ore the land

The old place don’t look like it did when
It was the pride of my momma and her man

Where is the boy with the slingshot
Who guarded the homestead back then

And where is the life that I used to call mine
It’s gone like a candle in the wind

Daddy worked in the cornfield

I’ve seen daddy work in the cornfield
Till sweat soaked the shirt on his back

Making a living the best way he could
With hands that were callused and cracked

Time has made so many changes
In these forty years, I’ve been gone

Well I told mom and dad that some day I’d be back
But, I guess I’ve waited too long

Where is the boy with the slingshot
Who guarded the homestead back then

And where is the life that I used to call mine
It’s gone like a candle in the wind

Like a Candle In the Wind - in Appalachia

Now mom and dad are just a memory
And here I am standing alone

Sadly remembering the line someone wrote
That said you can never go home

Where is the boy with the slingshot
Who guarded the homestead back then

And where is the life that I used to call mine
It’s gone like a candle in the wind

Gone Like A Candle In The Wind written by Randall Hylton

——————–

I’ve had these great lines on my mind since late last week. If you’d like to hear the song-go here.

Tipper

 

 

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23 Comments

  • Reply
    Rev. RB
    March 27, 2015 at 4:27 pm

    Very nostalgic isn’t it, even those who were never a boy with a sling shot must’ve found the words bringing back sweet memories.
    Life goes by so very quickly. If only we realized that more when younger.
    God bless.
    RB
    <><

  • Reply
    Suzi Phillips
    March 26, 2015 at 4:07 pm

    Everything about this post is so beautiful and heartfelt!

  • Reply
    Gayle Larson
    March 26, 2015 at 3:33 pm

    Love the photo of Pap. I cannot bring myself to go back and look at what has happened to our families homestead. It is too sad.
    My great aunt called daffodils outhouse lilies. I guess they were planted all along the sides of my uncles outhouse.
    Twelve years ago was the last time I
    looked and can’t bring myself to go again.

  • Reply
    dolores
    March 26, 2015 at 1:12 pm

    The song is new to me, but I really enjoy the rhythm and the words made me remember days gone by.

  • Reply
    Ken
    March 26, 2015 at 12:41 pm

    Tipper,
    Those words are so touching! The
    Blind Pig Gang does a nice job
    singing it too.
    Chitter does an excellent job on
    #2 (You Ought to be Here with Me).
    And #3 Chatter adds to a beautiful
    blend that makes the song…Ken

  • Reply
    Tamela
    March 26, 2015 at 12:03 pm

    Lovely- yet sad, – makes me think of all the homes through the generations that have faded away, and of my father’s own farm thickened and cracked hands.

  • Reply
    Wanda Devers
    March 26, 2015 at 11:59 am

    Awakens a lot of memories for me. Our old home place still stands but so changed as to be almost unrecognizable. In many ways we had wonderful childhoods–we roamed pretty freely in the pine thickets & woods & there was an almost perfect shallow creek down in the bottom. I say almost as we had to keep a lookout for snakes & Mama would have killed us if she had known we were down there.
    My brothers trecked down there in the recent snow & again found our initials carved in the big trees. There was a little pond back behind an old barn that held goldfish–Lord knows where they came from but the boys would fish out one & take it to Mama who would house it in a gallon jug. This began her fascination with fish & when times got better she had several aquariums until she got to old to keep them up.

  • Reply
    Ed Ammons
    March 26, 2015 at 11:52 am

    My Daddy used to work out in the fields ’til his clothes were soaked with sweat. Sweat would drip from the bill of his cap. He usually stayed out until the sun went down. When it cooled down and he came in, his clothes would have dried but there would be salt lines around where the sweat had been. Mommy would wash the salt out of his clothes. His cap went on a nail beside the door. I don’t think it ever got washed. When it got too bad, he would throw it away and put on a new one. Back then caps were free if you didn’t mind advertizing for a feed company or something.

  • Reply
    Bill Burnett
    March 26, 2015 at 11:18 am

    I’m afraid this song applies to many of us. We were raised by a self sufficient generation who had lived through the depression. Many of these folks were amazing in their ability to do any task required to survive. Most had little chance to seek advanced schooling as they had to go to work to help their families survive but they were intelligent and earned their degrees from the school of hard knocks, these lessons were well remembered. To answer the question of where the little boy with the sling shot has gone, he has been kicked out of school for forgetting and bringing his “weapon” to school in the back pocket of his jeans. Thanks for the memories.

  • Reply
    Garland Davis
    March 26, 2015 at 10:39 am

    Your song reminded me of this. Not a cabin, but once my home. I watched the feed a couple of weeks ago as they towed the USS Ranger from Bremerton, Washington to begin the long trip to the ship breakers in Brownsville, Texas where she will be dismantled.

  • Reply
    Mary Lou McKillip
    March 26, 2015 at 10:18 am

    Tipper,
    What a blessing this was to me. Randall Hylton put his heart into this wonderful poetry of song.
    Tipper, you are a God sent to most of us who love yesterday and memories hearing about the radius past of others.
    I wish I could hear the song, but my speakers are down ready to embark on a totally different life from these blessed Appalachian Mountains.

  • Reply
    Shirl
    March 26, 2015 at 9:50 am

    Sometimes we can hear a song and never listen to the words. I have listened to Gone Like A Candle In The Wind and never stopped to hear what Pap and Paul were saying. Now the song is even more beautiful.

  • Reply
    eva nell wike, PhD
    March 26, 2015 at 9:49 am

    Oh my! This is heavy posting. Mr. TimMc’s comment kind of says it all!
    Eva Nell

  • Reply
    Jane Bolden
    March 26, 2015 at 9:38 am

    Touching! Guess many of us can relate.

  • Reply
    betty richards
    March 26, 2015 at 9:23 am

    I love this great song.

  • Reply
    Henry Horton
    March 26, 2015 at 8:10 am

    Dear Tipper, Thank you for that…though i had to step out side, listen to the creek and shed a few tears for the boy and the farm that once was. The house is long gone, some one torched it years ago and i never had a sling shot (i was the boy planting daffodils by the crick and looking for the first spring flowers in the woods – and come to think of it still am!) And in three weeks i will be back in the Ozarks for a family celebration and as we 7 always do will make a pilgrimage to the old place to see if Mama’s narcissus (planted 1947) are blooming and mark the
    spot so my brother can dig some in the fall for me to plant here and maybe in 2087 some one will be surprised by their springtime sweetness and wonder how they got to these woods by this creek. BTW do you know the story of how the simple little ‘wild” (?) daffodils that are EVERYWHERE got to these mountains? My guess is some farmwife from Scotland brought them here, her treasure, a little bit o home, back in the early 18th century and as gardeners will the sharing spread them all over these hills. (Ever verbose – hh)

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    March 26, 2015 at 7:21 am

    I relate to the words, my parents house we have now rented out. The tenants do not put the love into the house my parents did. It somehow looks abandoned.

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    March 26, 2015 at 7:21 am

    I relate to the words, my parents house we have now rented out. The tenants do not put the love into the house my parents did. It somehow looks abandoned.

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    March 26, 2015 at 7:21 am

    I relate to the words, my parents house we have now rented out. The tenants do not put the love into the house my parents did. It somehow looks abandoned.

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    March 26, 2015 at 7:21 am

    I relate to the words, my parents house we have now rented out. The tenants do not put the love into the house my parents did. It somehow looks abandoned.

  • Reply
    Miss Cindy
    March 26, 2015 at 7:20 am

    Yes, that’s something to make one stop and think. A candle in the wind is such a fragile thing, as we are as compared to this life and this world.
    Nice shot of Pap. Wonder what he was thinking at that moment.

  • Reply
    Don Casada
    March 26, 2015 at 6:59 am

    I enjoyed the poetry and the singing of it. The photo of Pap is fantastic.

  • Reply
    TimMc
    March 26, 2015 at 6:45 am

    Good job on the song,, reminds me of a verse in the Bible… James 4:14 Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. The Older I get this verse becomes more real..

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