Black Fly Season Blues
(sung to the tune of Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash)
I hear the black flies buzzing, they're swarming round my tent,
and I've been out of bug spray, since I don't when.
I'm stuck in black fly season, and getting feasted on.
But those suckers keep on biting, the whole way to Gorham.
When I was just a baby, my Momma told me "Son,
Always wear your head net, and put some bug spray on".
But I swatted ten in Conway. Just to watch them die.
When I feel the suckers biting, I hang my head and cry.
I bet there's rich folk dining, up in a mountain hut.
They're probably watching croo skits, and sleeping in warm bunks.
But I'm down in black fly heaven, mosquitoes whining by.
I know I need some sleep now, but I can't shut my eyes.
If they moved me from this campsite, if the whole forest was mine.
Well then I'd move my tent up, a lot closer to tree line.
Far from black flies breeding, is where I want to stay.
And I'd let the alpine breezes, blow my blues away.
dedicated to CJ the caretaker at Nauman Tentsite and the '19 Hut Croo at Madison Spring
