I lift up my eyes unto the hills.
Beneath the blue sky, they quietly lay
Rolling into the distance soft and still
The mountains called Shaconage.
Ancient long before man found them here
One can feel how much the years do weigh
How the ages come and disappear
Yet remains primeval Shaconage.
I see your forests coat your gentle slopes
A canopy that blocks each golden ray.
And shades in mystery the grounds below
And the dim-lit paths through Shaconage
The waters spring up in its hollowed hills
To gurgle and flow down their shining way
They water the valleys below as on they spill
Through the land they call Shaconage
The moon shines full on valley, ridge, and Dale
The land is haunted, dark, black and grey
By memories misty, thin, and frail
Of ages past here in Shaconage
The Ancient hills and valleys roll away
the smoky haze across this land does lay
My thoughts come here any time they stray
My heart belongs to Shaconage
(c) James L. Frady April 15th 2021
The name “Smoky Mountains” is derived from the Cherokee word “Shaconage” (Sha-Kon-O-Hey), which means “land of the blue smoke”.
