[Style: Dark Ozark bluegrass horror, slow-to-mid tempo, mournful banjo, haunting fiddle, upright bass, sparse acoustic guitar, Appalachian/Ozark vocal, eerie harmonies, building intensity] [Intro: Sparse banjo picking, low fiddle drone, distant wind through trees] [Verse 1] Before the roads were blacktop Before the county lights There were stories in the hollers Passed around by firelight Old men knew the places Where you never ought to roam Old women knew the warnings That would follow children home They'd tell you of the shadows That moved beyond the flame Of something in the timber That never gave its name And if you heard your footsteps But knew they weren't your own You didn't stop to wonder You just turned and headed home [Pre-Chorus: Fiddle slowly rises] Every hollow has a history Every ridge remembers Every story left behind Still burns beneath the embers [Chorus] These are the tales of the Ozarks Tales the old ones told Of things that walk the timber When the night turns cold You can laugh around the fire You can say they're only tales But don't go looking for them When the moon is on the trail These are the tales of the Ozarks Passed from blood to blood Some were born from moonshine Some were born from mud And some of them were warnings That nobody understood Till something in the darkness Answered from the woods [Verse 2] There's a road where children whisper Though nobody can be seen A bride who walks without a face Through places dark and green There's an old forgotten mill Where the night don't sound the same And something walks the riverbank When somebody speaks its name Booger Dogs are in the hollers Howlers call beyond the ridge The Side-Hill Hoofer travels Where the mountains twist and dip Momo watches from the timber With those eyes beyond the light And something moves among the cedars When the woods go still at night [Pre-Chorus] Every creek has got a secret Every cave has got a past Every old man has a story That he swears is gonna last [Chorus] These are the tales of the Ozarks Tales the old ones told Of things that walk the timber When the night turns cold You can laugh around the fire You can say they're only tales But don't go looking for them When the moon is on the trail These are the tales of the Ozarks Passed from blood to blood Some were born from moonshine Some were born from mud And some of them were warnings That nobody understood Till something in the darkness Answered from the woods [Verse 3] Some stories were made to frighten Some were made to keep you clear Of a hollow or a cave Where nobody wanted you near A whisper started somewhere Then it traveled down the road By Sunday everybody knew it And by winter it had grown But somewhere in those stories Something stranger came alive Because not every old-time warning Was a tale somebody contrived There are things these hills remember That no storyteller made And there are places in these woods Where the daylight seems afraid [Bridge: Banjo drops out, lone fiddle and low vocal] If you ain't from these hollers Don't go looking for the truth The woods don't owe you answers And they don't care about your proof Some stories should stay stories Some roads should stay unknown Some things are better heard Than ever seen with your own eyes [Instrumental: Dark fiddle solo, banjo gradually returns] [Verse 4] So the stories keep on traveling From the old to the young Every generation carries What the last one left unsung A name beside the firelight A warning on the road A place beneath the cedar trees Where nobody goes And maybe that's the reason These old stories never die Because every time they're told Something listens from outside [Final Chorus: Full dark bluegrass arrangement, haunting harmony vocals] These are the tales of the Ozarks Tales the old ones told Of things that walk the timber When the night turns cold You can laugh around the fire You can call them only tales But don't go looking for them When the moon is on the trail These are the tales of the Ozarks Passed from blood to blood Written in the hollers And buried in the mud And if you hear your name called From somewhere in the wood Don't answer back [Outro: Instruments fall away one by one, distant fiddle] [Spoken, low and quiet] The old ones told us for a reason. [Final fiddle note fades into silence]
