Big Sandy, child of noble birth,
Majestically you roll along,
True daughter of the Cumberlands,
With heritage of wealth and song.
Free as the hills from whence you came,
In folklore and tradition bound,
You seek the valleys deep and wide,
With frowning forests girded round.
Descendants of a stalwart breed
And fed by nature's lavish hand,
You carry on your bosom broad
The riches of a virgin land.
When ringing ax of pioneers
The silence of the forests broke,
Upon your rising crest you bore
The poplar and the mighty oak.
The push boat launched by brawny arms
And filled with treasure from the earth
Has drifted on your current strong
From out the hills that gave you birth.
And steamboats loaded to the hold
You swept upon your swelling tide,
'Til fruits of sturdy, mountain toil
Were scattered out both far and wide.
The Dew Drop plowed your mighty waves.
From Catlettsburg to old Pike Town,
To bring her loads of manmade gifts
And carry homespun products down.
And Market Boy, that far-famed craft,
Churned through the foam, her holds to fill,
And proudly reared her antlered head
A trophy rare of mountain skill.
--D. Preston