We took to stealing copper wire Stashed in a laurel slick down by the old mine Where ain't no coal been hauled out Since 1979 It's all growed up with poison sumac Kudzu wrapped in hemlock teeth The cinnamon vine and the ginseng leaves Swaying in the wind brought down from the ridge Here on Dope Mountain You can catch you a chill & The maestro surmises we belong to these hills To these hills Hunting morels and arrowheads Skirting the creeks and the washed-out beds Eating microwaved vanilla Moonpies & Watching Tom T learn to fight Every other weekend the boys are here Breaking off limbs and sharpening up spears Proud to be a hillbilly, 6th generation But we ain't no white trash & The counterpoint lies under the melody & The counterpoint moves under the melody & The counterpoint breathes under the melody & The counterpoint sings under the melody