1243

Lyrics

(Verse 1)
The copper still was humming in the laurel and the pine,
Just me and the ghosts of Cocke County, making liquid sunshine.
The law came up the holler, faster than a mountain cat,
They found three hundred gallons where the mash was sitting fat.
The judge said, "Son, the Big House is a long and lonely stay,
But the Army needs some riflemen to sail across the bay.
There’s a ruckus in the Orient, a fire in the East,
Go serve your Uncle Samuel, and your soul will be released."
​(Chorus)
Now the moon is over Peking, but it ain’t the moon I know,
It’s a pale and dusty lantern in a land of blood and woe.
From the Smokies to the Tartar Wall, it’s a long and bitter road,
For a man who traded prison for a heavy musket load.
The Boxers are a-howling, and the Legation’s closing in,
And I’m praying for the mountain dew to wash away my sin.
​(Verse 2)
They shipped us on a steamer, halfway 'round the world,
Into the heat of China, where the dragon flags unfurled.
The "Righteous Harmony" is rising, with their fists and with their knives,
They’re burning down the missions, they’re taking foreign lives.
I traded in my overalls for a coat of khaki blue,
And a Krag-Jørgensen rifle that I’m learning how to use.
But the air is thick with incense and the smell of roasting meat,
Not the scent of sour mash and woodsmoke, drifting cool and sweet.
​(Verse 3)
We’re holed up in the quarter, with our backs against the wall,
Waiting for the relief column—if they ever come at all.
The Empress Dowager is watching from her throne of gold and jade,
While we’re digging in the trenches with a broken rusty spade.
I used to dodge the Revenue, skipping through the creek,
Now I’m dodging gingal bullets and the sulfur-blackened reek.
Fifty-five days of thunder, fifty-five days of dread,
Counting out my cartridges and wishing I was home in bed.
​(Bridge)
Sometimes at night, the firing stops, and the world goes ghostly still,
I close my eyes and I can see the mist on English Hill.
I’d give the Kaiser’s gold, boys, and the British crown to boot,
For one jar of the "clear" and a pair of worn-out boots.
But the bugle sounds at sunrise, and the brickwork starts to fly,
And a Tennessee moonshiner is a hell of a way to die.
​(Verse 4)
They say we’re fighting "Progress," they say we’re fighting "Fate,"
But it feels a lot like dying for a world I’ve learned to hate.
The barricades are crumbling, and the water’s running low,
But a man from the Appalachians has a stubborn way to go.
If I make it through the summer, if I see the autumn frost,
I’ll head back to the Clinch River, and I’ll never more be lost.
Let the generals keep their medals, let the colonels keep the fame,
Just give me back the quiet woods that used to know my name.
​(Outro)
Yeah, the moon is over Peking...
Cold and white as bone.
Lord, send this mountain boy...
Back to where he’s known.
(Fade out with the sound of a distant bugle and a rifle shot)
​Historical Context for Your Song
​The Setting: The Siege of the International Legations in Peking (now Beijing) took place in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion.
​The Weapon: The Krag-Jørgensen was the standard-issue bolt-action rifle for the U.S. Army at the time.
​The Timeline: The siege lasted for 55 days before the Eight-Nation Alliance broke through to rescue the civilians and soldiers.