there s an old dirt road just off route nine fades into the lake at the low water line sometimes i wander down that road alone remembering the town that i once called home i grew up in the valley every neighbor a friend until the modern world started creeping in one day came the lawyers with cash in hand they swore that our village would light up the land the dusky waters move cold and slow and the ghosts of a village still wander below homesteads of families and friends forever more haunting the valley below this sparkling shore surrounding the valley was a painted red line drawn by company men like marking a crime a silent reminder that all inside it must go or be lost to the rising dead river s flow some folks took the money started grinding gears while the rest of us held out twenty odd years we watched our town like a photograph fade as the company came to take it all away they tore down the church the schoolhouse burned they dug up the graves the wheels of progress turned they got dutchie s store and haven s pool hall when the dozers rolled it shattered us all the dusky waters move cold and slow and the ghosts of a village still wander below homesteads of families and friends forever more haunting the valley below this sparkling shore old may savage stayed as long as she could her house on the hill towered over the flood it rose up alone in the dark of night its face on the water the cold moonlight i shake off the memories on my lips a prayer thanks for the grace and the beauty down there and while the porch lights glow all over the state there s nothing but darkness under the lake the dusky waters move cold and slow and the ghosts of a village still wander below homesteads of families and friends forever more haunting the valley below this sparkling shore they haunt the valley below this sparkling shore