I sent this off in the spring of 2000 as a single to various radio stations in Oregon and Washington convinced that it would become a great hit on the twentieth anniversary of that spectacular eruption of Mount St. Helens. Knowing more now about the effects of the eruption, I’ve decided that this was too flip even twenty years out. I don’t think it got much air-play.
I got some great bluegrass help on this song. (See the reference to Lynn Morris and Ron Stewart under “Ramblin’ Man.”) Oh, to be able to play a solo break like Ron did!!
© 1999 Steven E. Cutts (ASCAP)
recorded on March 6, 2000 at Bias Studios (recorded and mixed by Jim Robeson)
on All Alone . . . But Hardly On My Own (available for purchase at iTunes, et al.)
Steve, acoustic guitar & lead vocal
Robert Bartley, harmony vocal
John Lewis, electric bass
Lynn Morris, banjo
Ron Stewart, fiddle, mandolin, & acoustic guitar (solo)
One morning in May Mount St. Helens blew her top!
One morning in May - - there wasn’t any way to stop
What that mountain was going to do; the mud and the rocks, they flew and flew
And covered the ground for miles around, one morning in May.
When you looked up at that mountain, it was a beautiful sight to see :
A peaceful snow-capped peak -- lush green slopes -- what scenery!
As you gazed at that gorgeous view, what you probably did not know
Was that deep inside Mount St. Helens was a sleeping volcano.
That Sunday morning started out as quiet as it could be;
But the mountain began to rumble; shook the birds right out of the trees.
Then it gave a mighty blast that people heard far and wide
And the whole top of that mountain went a-tumblin’ down the side.
The avalanche filled up the lakes; landmarks disappeared.
Trees fell down like matchsticks; the blast chased away the deer.
A plume of smoke rose up and up sixteen miles in height
And the ash that flew out of the air turned the daytime into night.
Nature’s started slowly to reclaim the mountainside :
The melting snows have cut new streams; the elk are back; the hawks fly high;
And seedlings stretch their limbs, so the woods may be restored.
But the mountain’s merely marking time ‘til it blows apart once more!