by John Slade

Genre: Americana/Country



There lived an old bald eagle near the town where I was born
Grew up on a farm and lived on chicken feed and corn
Knew she was unhappy, but the barn was safe and warm
And from a twisted tree
She watched the river Manobee flow
Seven days from where the rapids run
To where Erie lay sleeping in the sun

Born and raised where cattle grazed and comfort was assured
Until the day the locals say a wondrous thing occurred
A mighty storm awoke some ancient longing in the bird
And above the weather vane
And through the crazy rain she flew
Seven days from where the rapids run
To where Erie lay churning in the sun

How I loved the story of that restless eagle’s journey
Back in the days when I was young
Funny thing, but in my dreams she crossed the mighty Erie
When Erie lay gleaming in the sun

Just last July my boy and I we took that river ride
Two local youths with twenty-twos stood on the river side
And no one knows, but I’m with those who say she’s still alive
Somewhere north of here
Where the water’s clear
Seven days from where the rapids run
High above Erie, heading for the sun

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