Track 14 of "Ways that Are Dark" CD
Farewell To Civilization

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To the wilderness I go to dwell not as one
Who is hiding or fleeing the gun
But that I may realize at some mature age
A dream that in youth I had once

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There is an old European tradition, according to Hemingway, that a thirsty spirit appreciates the kindness of a drink spill't into the graveside dirt. Upon locating the old stone that marks the place where rests the bones of Kephart, above Bryson City, I emptied a flask of Kentucky bourbon into the soil. This song is composed of the simple words left on the brass plate above the stone, and also from an essay found in one of his journals. The piece, entitled 'Farewell to Civiliation,' is the soul tenant on a sheet of paper that is otherwise blank; very remarkable for a man whose 8 point hand-writing consumed every available space on a page! Despite its brevity, it speaks volumes on the life of this writer. If you are in Bryson City, be sure to nourish the ground where Kephart lies, and reflect on the ways his life enriched ours.

Farewell to Civilization

I go (came) to dwell in the wilderness, not as one fleeing or hiding, but that I may (might) realize, at a (in) mature age, a dream of youth. There, (here) in the wildwood, I shall find (have found) peace, cleanliness, health of body and mind. There (here) I can live the natural life, unfettered and unindebted. There (here) duty itself is pliant to any breath of fancy that may stir the buds and foliage of thought.

The Musicians:

Lead Vocal: Peter Rowan
Tenor Vocals: Mary Miller
Guitar: Jack Lawrence
Banjo: Craig Smith
Mandolin: Tony Williamson
Fiddle: Rickie Simpkins
String Bass: Robbie Link