I write so I’ll know what I’m thinking
“In Many Ways”
This is the story about “Old Dan”
who lived in the mountains and worked the land.
He built a house out of mud and stone,
he had no family, he lived alone.
Some thought “Old Dan” was just an outlaw,
who came to the hills to hide from the law.
Some said he was crazy, some said he was mean,
but an act of violence they had never seen.
Church bells would ring in the little town,
and people would come from miles around.
They would sing and shout, preach and pray,
then gather outside each Sunday.
They talked of the house, the one made of stone,
and about “Old Dan”, why he lived alone.
“He must be a heathen”, the women would say,
he has never come to the church to pray.
The men all agreed that the women were right,
but they never went up because of fright.
“Let ten men go”, I heard someone say,
make him come down to the church to pray.
“He’ll kill you all, he’s an evil man,
don’t go up there without gun in hand”.
The ten agreed it was safer this way,
they would climb the mountain, but first they would pray.
Ten men afraid, with gun in hand,
they stopped at the porch, and called to “Old Dan”.
“You in the house” I head them say,
“Why haven’t you come to the church to pray?”
The door flew open and there stood “Old Dan”,
but a shot rang out from a nervous hand.
And a shadow fell with a cross in hand,
they took the life of the mountain man.
They searched the house, made of mud and stone,
but there’s little to see from a man that’s alone.
Just a table, a chair and a wooden bunk,
it’s all that’s allowed when you become a monk.