A song about the town's French name and the joy of making music in the open. Good for a group — everybody can shout the chorus.
G C French trappers came through the piney wood, G D named this ground the best they could, G C "Sumac Couvert" on a hunter's tongue — Em D G covered over, where the sumac hung.
G C The years rolled on and the word got bent, G D "Smackover" now is what they meant. G C Same old creek and the same red clay, Em D G still got a song that we're gonna play.
C G So step on out your door, D Em that's what the music's for — C G porch or sidewalk, creek or yard, D sing it loud, it ain't hard! C G From France to here it came, D Em old town with a funny name, C G make a joyful sound today — D G Smackover, come and play!
G C Don't you worry if you miss a chord, G D nobody's keeping any score. G C Bring a fiddle, bring a friend, Em D G play till the summer evening ends.
For Dr. Charles E. Kennedy (1901–1963), the town physician whose wood-frame office stood on this ground from 1933. A quiet song for the place where we gather.
C G There stood a small frame door, Am F nineteen thirty-three, C G where a doctor kept his light F G C for the folks of this country.
C G From Summerfield he came, Am F learned his careful art, C G thirty years he gave this town F G C the steady of his heart.
F C Now grass grows where the office stood, G C and children come to play; F C a quiet park, a kindly name, G C to carry him each day.
C G So rest beneath the shade, Am F let the music come, C G the man who healed is honored here F G C in every gentle hum.
For the Smackover servicemen on the memorial — and for all veterans, past and present. The bridge reads a few of the names aloud; sing them plainly, like a roll call. The final verse looks ahead to the bicentennial time capsule, sealed in 1978, to be opened July 4, 2078.
Em C They left this little town behind, G D went where the duty led, Em C and some came home to quiet ground G D Em with the honored, holy dead.
C G Their courage is our victory, D Em their sacrifice, our debt; C G duty, honor, country — D Em a town that won't forget.
Em C Anding, Berry, Boyd, and Cox, G D Faulkner, Haynes, and Hodges, too, Em C Owens, Rouse, and Slade, and Wray — G D Em we say your names for you.
Em C And to the ones still standing watch, G D who rise and serve today, Em C for no reward but duty's call, G D Em we thank you while we play.
Em C A capsule sealed beneath our feet, G D to wait a hundred years, Em C so sing it down to twenty-seventy-eight — G D Em let them hear we held it dear.↑ back to top
The other story of the name. The French came up the Ouachita (say it WASH-i-taw) and found a creek mouth so thick with vegetation it closed over like a tunnel — Bayou de Chemin Couvert, the bayou of the covered path. First written down in 1789.
D G They poled up the Ouachita, Washita slow, D A where the brown water bends and the cypress grow, D G lookin' for a landing, lookin' for a way, Bm A D and they found a little creek at the close of day.
D G But the mouth of that creek was a curious sight, D A the green grew over and it swallowed the light, D G the branches leaned down and the vines ran across, Bm A D like a tunnel in the trees, all shadow and moss.
G D Chemin couvert, the covered path, A Bm a green-roofed road where the bayou laughed; G D they wrote it down in 'eighty-nine, A D a tunnel of leaves on the borderline.
D G Now the tongues wore it smooth and they let it slide, D A from "chemin couvert" to the name we got now, D G but paddle up the creek where the willows lean — Bm A D you can still see the path in the tunnel of green.
For the ones who say they can't. You don't have to be good — you just have to join in. Sing a song or speak a verse; there's room for every voice. Start soft, get louder, let the crowd carry it.
G C You say you've got no voice for this, G D you say you'll just stand by — G C but the bird don't ask if it sings in tune, D G it only asks the sky.
G C You don't need a single lesson, G D you don't need a thing to bring; G C if you can hum, if you can speak a word, D G then friend, you can sing.
C G So everybody sing, D G off-key is just fine; C G speak a verse, or strum one chord, D or clap along in time. C G There's no wrong way to play, Em D no note too small to ring — C G we were all born with a song, D G so come on, everybody sing!
G C The shy one and the scared one, G D the ones who think they can't — G C there's a place for every trembling voice, D G a part for every chant.
C Maybe you don't sing — then speak a bard, G say a rhyme, say it true; D a poem in the open air's a song (no chord, let it ring) the same as any tune.