I have walked the mighty hills of the place that I call home. I have drank from her rivers and streams. I have tasted the old mans moonshine. It's a bit stronger than it seems.
I looked upon the mounds the builders build long ago. Heard stories of ghost from the past. Heard the snap of the rope at John Brown's hanging. Dark shadows that still seem to last.
I climbed to the edge of Seneca Rock looking down at the valley below. I guess West Virginia's my home sweet home, There's no place in the world I'd rather go.
Running the ridges near Romney. She's fight's for the title of oldest town. Road the Potomac Eagle up through the trought. Looked as the eagles flew, hearing the trains sound.
The glass blown in Wheeling, The snake churches in the south. I get this rush when I think about her. If you talk about her I'll punch you in the mouth.
Cause she'll always be home to me. People here are wild and free. She's my home I've grown to love. Worth all your gold, beauty like heaven above.Old hills filled with thrills.West Virginia my home.........
Originally Posted On Site: 2010-01-17 12:46:47
Last Login: 05.24.12
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