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Grover Anderson
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Philip Marshall Cates
Philip Marshall Cates was born in Carolina,
Went to school in England
Philip and Samantha married on his farm
Before the harvest season
He was schemin'
His worshipped father died a Great War hero
At night he'd lie in bed and clutch his silver stars and eagles
(He was schemin')
Back abroad in London Philip Marshall Cates
Had met an old explorer
Who'd climbed the Ural Mountains, crossed Sahara,
Dove the oceans, spoke of more
Oh, he spoke of more!
So one night Philip abandoned poor Samantha,
Future Smokey Mountain old maid
And as he dark departed, son Lysander
Joined his father as a stowaway
(He spoke of more!)
But tonight, don't cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that fades away
She still works the farm, and she remembers her baby in her arms
The babe that left her barren and the man that drove her early grey
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home one day
Philip and Lysander carried south to work for merchants out of Quito
Son translated, father wore a gun and fended off banditos
He grew weak though
Then in eighteen years they worked every job from here to Argentina
Every woman a distortion of that last time they had seen her
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(He grew weak though)
But tonight, don't cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that fades away
She still works the farm, and she remembers her baby in her arms
The babe that left her barren and the man that drove her early grey
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home one day
Old Lysander Cates spent over thirty months
In travel north to Raleigh
Gasping when he saw Samantha bed-ridden, rheumatized and gnarly
He said 'I'm sorry,
'It's been seven years since father was gunned down
'By gauchos out to rob our cocaine
'And when I got out of jail for killing every last one
'I started home again
'Oh, Mother I'm sorry.'
Old Samantha Cates was buried in
The shadow of the church bell tower
And when he took his life Lysander's body
Landed there amongst her flowers….
But tonight, don't cry for Samantha, mother and bride
As she holds a black and white photograph that's faded away
She still works the farm, and her baby has outgrown her arms
The fields are never barren and
The men come in for supper after a long hard day
And they all take respite in the thought of coming home….
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