From the recording twigs

Craggie Hope is a real place not far from where I lived back in Tennessee.  It is tucked away and in a world all of its own, and every time I drove down the small two lane road that passes through it, I’d look up into the woods and see this charming old white church.  So many times I wanted to stop and go inside, but I never did.  Each time a saw it I’d imagined all the stores it could tell. 
 
I had this piece of music that I didn't know what to do with and one day I just wrote this poem that was inspired by the place and that church, and put the two together.  Recorded 1999
 
Earlier this year (2014) I took a trip over to North Carolina to see a dear old friend whose been battling an illness and on my way back to Missouri I took a small detour to drive by my old Tennessee homestead to see what all had changed since I left.  Before I headed back out to the interstate highway and just had to go over to see that church at Craggie Hope one more time.  It looked the same as the last time I’d seen it many years ago. This time I did get out of my car and walked around and took a few pictures.  I always felt there was something very magical about that place, and this poem and the music are still very fitting to the mystery that surrounds it.
 
Recorded 1999

Lyrics

 
memories dance before me
of a place I once called home
in a valley mostly tucked away
in a world all of its own
with all of gods creations
we grew up simple folk
always in the presence of
the church near Craggy Hope
 
when I was just a young’n
on nights of katydids
me and Curt McCracken
hid out from the other kids
we’d wander around the universe
with an old brass telescope
up on a hill that overlooks
the church near Craggy Hope
 
July ‘57, i remember to this day
she moved in down the road a bit
and childhood slipped away
then after seven summers
when we ran off to elope
fate would run us out of gas
by the church near Craggy Hope
 
now she does all the talkin’
at least once every day
sometimes even brings me roses
as if I’d forget her name
she sits them by and old Burch tree
where a swing hangs from a rope
as underneath its shade I rest
by the church near Craggy Hope
 
Publishing leewardmusic BMI