I'm a stranger to the fever
that changed our east Kentucky home.
but the grave yard has the story.
with the proof on half the stone.
It closed down the railroad,
so men could open up the tomb,
a brush with death at brush creek,
a brush with certain doom.
The scarlett sun has settled down,
with a shadow on the grave.
and brush creek is much different now
.but death will never change.
I'm a stranger to the fever
,but a victim of it's wrath
for I carried up the creekstone
for the dead in scarletts path
who had no respect of persons,
no mountain was to high.
scarlett like a spirit
with the choice of who would die.