Mudslide - David Rovics

Before the pioneers came all the way out here

To set up camp to farm, to hunt and mine

By the riverbanks others joined their ranks

And worked the land and forests, rain or shine

That’s how things once were there among the Douglas Fir

That blanketed the region, far and wide

It’s the story of a mountainside

Soon the situation changed, lots of lumber mills in range

And logging was the way men made their way

Such demand for wood, soon barely a tree stood

When rain fell down from skies of grey

Turns out the trees they made the hill, loose mud just won’t stay still

And pretty soon it all began to slide

It’s the story of a mountainside

Fertile hilltops turned to stone but the secondgrowth had grown

Decades passed and corporations came

Some people tried to tell this would not end well

But when profit rules it’s always the same

There’s no valley that’s too deep, there’s no hill that is too steep

No regulator’s pockets can’t be plied

It’s the story of a mountainside

Once the hill was cut and flayed there were still profits to be made

By selling land to folks to live out in the country

With the river still so pretty and there just north of the city

Go raise your kids in rural harmony

It was the last place they would go, the last home they’d ever know

When the hill collapsed and half the village died

It’s the story of a mountainside