Bottomlands
Album: Bottomlands
By: Wil Maring
By: Wil Maring
Duration
3:59
Genres
Description
Written while I was playing music professionally in germany for 10 years, this is a song sprung from homesickness for the Southern IL landscapes where I grew up, a wild place wedged between the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. This one's a favorite whereever I play, even for those who have never seen this place.
Lyrics
BOTTOMLANDS As a child I knew the bottomlands. I knew it's fury in the spring. I knew it's blazing heat in the summertime, and autumn mallards on the wing. And I knew the way to your house down an icy gravel road. Yes, I knew the way to your house with my eyes closed... As we walked along in the bottomlands Where the corn grows eight feet high. And the mud comes up between our toes, And the sun beats down like it somehow knows the fall's not far away. We'll walk again in the bottomlands someday. Like a midnight freight through the bottomlands, on a track to God knows where, I took a ride on a life that was just as fast and I landed somehow here. But the air here smells of gasoline and I miss the cricket's song. How was I to know that it would be so long?.... Til' we 'd walk again in the bottomlands Where the corn grows eight feet high And the mud comes up between our toes, And the sun beats down like it somehow knows the fall's not far away. We'll walk again in the bottomlands someday. Now in dreams I go to the bottomlands and I feel the August sun, And I smell mown weeds in the ditches and I hear the river run. And I see you on the riverbank and you turn to me and smile. It's a dream that seems more real with every mile. Til' we walk again in the bottomlands Where the corn grows eight feet high And the mud comes up between your toes, And the sun beats down like it somehow knows the fall's not far away. We'll walk again in the bottomlands someday. I imagine a home on a riverbluff overlooking the fields of green, where me and you, like we used to do, will walk the levee once again. But I'm still a little restless, and there are still some dues to pay. The wish will keep me working toward the day... When we'll walk along in the bottomlands Where the corn grows eight feet high And the mud comes up between our toes, And the sun beats down like it somehow knows the fall's not far away. We'll walk again in the bottomlands, We'll walk again in the bottomlands, We'll go marching through the bottomlands someday.
