When the Mountain Blew its Top

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The wind was blowin' slow and warm and the sky was gettin' dark

And on the map of Washington we placed a big X mark.

When travelin' down the highway you'll get stopped by a cop,

Who'll tell you you can't go nowhere 'cause the mountain blew its top.

The mud was slidin' everywhere and changed the river's course,

When the mountain got much shorter from its own inner force.

The businesses are closing and the highway's shuttin' down.

Travellers are stranded far from home with their smiles on upside-down.

The kids are happy, out of school, but the grownups are in doubt

Of the virtues of the aftermath of the spewin' of the spout.

Truman's in his hiding place drinkin' up his wine.

Laughter echoes through the shaft of that old hermits mine.

If you never see that man again, there's one thing you can bet.

As long as wine and whisky last, he'll be there drinkin' yet.

A farmer had his mouth agape when he opened up his door

And a hundred feet of mountain top slid through his kitchen floor.

The filters on the cars are plugged and the mountain's thundering crash

Has brought us to a standstill and covered us with ash.

My brussels sprouts are powdered and my cauliflower's grey

And my wife is stranded in the mess some fifty miles away.

A sadder man, but wiser now; I wish this thing would stop

And we could all look back at when the mountain blew its top.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written by Robert W. "DJ" Cameron after Mt. St. Helens erupted in May of 1980. It was published in the Spokesman Review newspaper and read over one of the local radio stations.

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