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<font color="#800080"><h1>Hopkins County Folk Lore</h1><p>

<h2>THE LEGEND OF "SCARBOW"</h2></font><br>
BY Dr. Orrin E. Hudson Jr,  D.C.<br>
Amateur - Historian/Folklorist/Archaeologist   
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<b>
The sun is setting in the Pennyrile<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     shadows are pulling down<br>
the campfire  is enviting us<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     to make a circle and gather round
<p>
Folktales will be shared<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     and some ghoststories too<br>
one especially remembered<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     was told as to be true
<p>
tragedy to such a hansome lad<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     makes this story oh so sad<br>
that you could feel his sorrow then<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     as shadows of evening wept for him
<p>
Was told that he was riding hard<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     that dark and stormy night<br>
thunder clashing, lightening dashing<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     horse to rider clinging tight
<p>
Onto his deep forest cabin <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     would be safe destination<br>
and resting by a cozy fire<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     would lay rush to meditation
<p>
The storm increased, the wind did worsen<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     he clicked his spurs with force<br>
an instant act to change direction<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     to take a nearer but trecherous course
<p>
suddenly his mount lost footing<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     as they went to jump a creek<br>
in a flash they both fell forward<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     the rider slamming hard on face and cheek
<p>
Numb he lay till morning<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     unaware of the worsening storm<br>
that continued all the night<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     destroying everything in sight
<p>
Tornado winds had left their mark<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     trees windrowed on the groung<br>
his cabin gone, his horse was dead<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     mind and body wretched with dread
<p>
His face was now disfigured<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     and mind in disarray<br>
he chose a life of seclusion<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     shunning the light of day
<p>
yet he longs to hear human voices<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     so somewhere in the night<br>
he will seek closeness to a campers fire<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     but to never spook or fright
<p>
Many campers sense his presence<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     around the fire at night<br>
especially when the wind is calm<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     and the moon is bright
<p>
So when you camp in the Pennyrile<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     and see what could be a face aglow<br>
do not scream, or shout, or run,<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
     cause it's only old "Scarbow"
<p>

CHORUS:<br>
SCAR  - BOOOO &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;        SCAR - B0000
<p>
SCARRRRRRR - BOOOOO   &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;              SCARRRRR - BOOOOOOOOO
  

                     I SEE SOMETHING<br>
                          WELL WHAT DO YOU SEE?
<p>

                     IT COULD BE FOXFIRE<br>
                         BUT IT'S LOOKIN'  AT ME!
<p>
SCAR - BOOOO &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;          SCAR - BOOOOO
<p>
                     REPEAT CHORUS
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<font size="-1">Put to print - February 7, 1995 - original version - Royalty/recording rights reserved.<br>
"Scarbow" by Orrin E. Hudson Jr., D.C.
Rights reserved
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