November moonlight

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
Tonight I rode Georgia 85 up from Manchester
And the road led me up over Pine Mountain
And the stars were thrown across the skies
Down in Woodbury, an old black gentleman
Wore his old fatigue jacket
And tended a fire in an oil drum
To ward off the November chill
And waved mutely as I passed the juke joint


My path turned east toward Molena,
A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
And I passed the houses, light shining
Through the drawn drapes on the front windows
The blue of the television glowing in the darkness
The moon illuminating the pastures as I passed
The dark shapes of cattle lying in the fields

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
As I passed through Zebulon
My path pivoted around the courthouse square
The red brick courthouse standing stern
Lit up by the streetlights surrounding the building
The lights of the police station glowing in the darkness
Ever vigilant, ever standing guard

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder