And Market Boy, that far-famed craft, Churned through the foam, her holds to fill, And proudly reared her antlered head A trophy rare of mountain skill. --D. Preston OLD TIME WATERFRONT Come all you old-time rivermen And go along with me, Let's sing a song and give a cheer For the days that used to be. Let's wander down to Catlettsburg And look upon the tide. We'll mourn the changes time has made There by the river side. Gone is the old-time waterfront That rang with joy and mirth, And known throughout a dozen states As "the wettest spot on earth." And Damron's famed Black Diamond, The logger's paradise, Where whiskey flowed like water And timbermen swapped lies. Here Big Wayne ruled in splendor; His right, none would deny. And Little Wayne was always there To serve the rock and rye. And Big Wayne never failed a friend, Or stopped to chat or lie, And no one entering his doors Was known to leave there dry. And many a time some timberman Would land himself in jail, But Big Wayne always lent a hand, And went the wretch's bail. Some of the buildings still are there, Along the old-time ways. Silent and dark their windows stare Gray ghosts of bygone days. No sound of merriment or song, No dancing footsteps fall; The days of fifty years ago, Are gone beyond recall. So to Big Wayne and Little Wayne, Big Sandy's pride and boast, And to the old-time waterfront, Let's drink a farewell toast. While to the old-time timbermen, This song we'll dedicate, Who fought their battles with their fists, And took their whiskey straight. --Coby Preston WEST VIRGINIA There is singing in the mountain where the sturdy hill folk meet, There is singing in the valleys where the days are warm and sweet, There is singing in the cities where the crowds of workers throng, Wherever we meet, no day is complete, for West Virginians without a song. West Virginia, land of beauty, West Virginia, land of song,