Morgantown

Who plowed the trees that lined the banks of the riverside

The roots would keep the river low and my old home dry

But the money always finds a good thing goin

And it takes it for a ride.

Those men they took all the good wood from my own home town

They paid fair wage until the trees had all been floated down

And just like the trees the river carried all the money

Down to morgantown

What breaks the bank of a river, but what flows downstream

What takes the bones and what picks them clean