Dusty Road Gary Swails 7/22/2017
This is a story of the 102 River, a branch of the Platte River in Northwest Missouri. I used to walk to this river along a railroad track when I was as a kid, to go fishing, chase frogs, watch the trains go by. These are lyrics of a song I wrote about my adventures and the 102 River.
As a kid I walked down a Dusty Road.
I walked along the railroad track.
I threw rocks in the river ‘neath the bridge
And when a train came along, I moved back.
On a hot August day I walked along
A Dusty Road, a Dusty Road.
And the grasshoppers jumped as I explored
And sunk my toes in that living Dusty Road.
There was sweet, eating corn beside the tracks,
You couldn’t buy any good as that,
As I walked to the river on the rail
And walked along the dusty trail.
All I had was a bamboo fishing pole, And some worms to bait my hook.
It was too far to take fish back home, so
When the train came along, I threw them back.
Gathered eggs in the morning everyday,
Slopped the pigs and fed the milking cows.
Then I’d walk to the river by the tracks,
On my secret, magic Dusty Road.
The 102, the part of which was mine,
The river winds, I swung out on the vines.
In a wild wood, I learned the natural life,
I’m older now, but not that much more wise.
On a hot August day I walked along ..
A Dusty Road, a Dusty Road.
And the grasshoppers jumped as I explored
And sunk my toes in that living Dusty Road.
All I had was a bamboo fishing pole, And some worms to
bait my hook.
It was too far to take fish back home, so
When the train came along, I threw them back.
Don’t say you know me when I know you don’t,
You haven’t walked along my dusty road.
You don’t know my silver rail, how the river winds, or rode
my swinging vine.
END