2010 NSS Cave Ballad Salon
Maglite Reggae
@2003 Howard Hurtt
You know you supposed to have three sources of light, of course you do,
  And you got to bring the right gear to do the pits you know that too.
  So you will never end up like the bozo this tragedy happens to…
He went into a big cave with a little Maglight
  He didn’t worry ‘bout the batteries; they work fine last night
  He go hand over hand down a sixty-foot pit on a clothesline
  By all right she shoulda snuffed it but he made it to the bottom just fine.
He looked around and he saw it was wet from the waterfall
  Did I forget to mention it was a little bit wet from the waterfall.
  And pretty soon his NASCAR t-shirt was soaked all the way through
  So he thought he go back home he know that was the right thing to do
  Ya he go back home where it be safe and warm and have another brew
So he started back up the clothesline.  The one with the boy scout bowline
  But when he grabbed it the clothesline came down
  And it be right about then that his Maglight went brown: he say;
  This is really a bring-down- I hadn’t planned on a pull-down: no
  He hadn’t planned on a no-light midnight pull-down
Well he started free climbing the pit like that man on TV
  He got up about forty feet to where the pit hangs free
  There might have been another hand hold but he could not see
  He heard the rushing of wind in his ear
  He heard the crunching of bone when he lit on his rear
He sat in his puddle and cried O mercy me
  He hadn’t told me where he expected to be
  He reached into his pocket for the cellular phone
  But in a thousand pieces the phone was blown-
           No gear, no light, no service…
When we found him his face was serene
  He’d been down there since June seventeen
  We brought him up in a sack
  I don’t think he’ll be back.
WHY, WHY, WHITE NOSE, WHY?
  By Marian McConnell
Once the caves were filled with bats
  Pips, and grays and browns
  At dusk they’d swirl up in the sky
  Like smoke from underground
  A fungus is running wild
  In bats from North to South
  We must find a way to help
  Before it wipes them out
Chorus:
  Here’s to all the white nosed bats who died before their time
  Little ghosts with leather wings
  Why, why, white nose, why?  Why, why, white nose, why?
Like canaries in a mine
  Or the honeybees’ demise
  We must find a way to help
  Before it wipes them out
Chorus
We can help the bats survive
  Decontaminate
  Clean our gear, respect closed caves
  Learn, and educate
Chorus
Mundus Subterraneus (world beneath the earth)
by Amanda Ray
I know a place deep beneath the surface
  flowing streams leading to your wildest childhood dreams
  crystal walls, frosted covered dripstone
galleries filled with dreams of fragile fantasies
more than a cavity in the earth
  a pathway, a new birth into the unknown
I walked till the sun started to leave
  next thing I know, the dark came and swallowed me
  then the fear set into my feet
now on my hands and knees feeling my way around
  echoes of the cave got really loud 
  then a laser of light found it’s way thru
more than a cavity in the earth
  a pathway, a new birth into the unknown
There was a hidden castle of micro-gems and pearls
  and markings of a man dwarfed by proud pillars of stone
more than a cavity in the earth
  a pathway, a new birth into the unknown
The Ballad of Devin Shane 
  by Bobbie Nagy
    (©1978)
Of Blood and Sweat and Devin's fame
  And barely conquered fears,
  I sing my song and tell the tale
  Of how he found his Tears.
The Fieldhouse poker game was done.
  The woodstove cooled and creaked.
  Our snores were muffled from the cold,
  When out the night he shrieked.
A light snapped on in every room,
  As cavers came awake.
  But one alone sat crying
  As though his heart would break.
We gathered gently 'round him.
  His tears soon ceased to stream.
  But then he softly shivered
   and said, "I've had a dream."
I saw a child dragged, stumbling,
  Down past a sleeping farm.
  An Indian boy with painted face
  Held tight her skinny arm.
He carried in his other hand
  A small, dark age-worn chest.
  And 'round his neck he wore a chain
  That jangled on his breast.
The Inidan sped his treasures
  Beside a mountain stream.
  The darkness hid their path from view
  Until I heard him scream.
And then I saw shadowed space
  In which they both now fell.
  I can't forget that young girl's cry
  Nor stop that Indian's yell.
The speaker now fell silent.
  Young Devin Shane was he.
  We told him it was just a dream.
  yet his eyes looked strange to me.
We told to go back to sleep,
  To drive it fromhis head,
  But Dev went right on sitting there.
  Who knows where his thoughts led?
I'll not forget the feeling
  That gripped me when I rose
  And turned to see an empty bunk—
  No bag, no boots, no clothes.
I rummaged for his caving box,
  His pack for camp and trail.
  And then I knew that Dev had gone
  To seek his Holy Grail.
  I told the others what I thought—
  That Dev had run amok.
  But none knew Devin as I did
  Nor saw the extent his pluck.
He'll soon forget the dream, they said.
  He's only just thirteen.
  But something in the way he'd looked
  Belied his youth so green.
Now word soon proved that I was right,
  For word soon reached our ears
  That Devin Shane ws out to show 
  That dreams could span the years.
He camped on mountains all alone
  And searched the river gaps.
  He poured through county record books
  and scanned the topo maps.
he hiked the trails and walked the streams
  From Laurel to Broad Run.
  He polked in every run-down farm
  And questioned everyone.
And then one day he found a cave
  Bside the brook called Trout.
  He burst into the Fieldhouse then
  And told us with a shout.
But cavers are a cynical lot,
  Not easy to impress.
  And as they wandered through his cve,
  Respect for Dev grew less.
It's just a rabbit hole, they said,
  Three hundred feet of mud.
  But one explorer skinned his knee,
  And so they named it Blood.
But Devin Shane was not downcast,
  Though his cave was called a dud.
  He sensed perhaps the treasure near
  Or sensed some other blood.
And so the search was on again.
  he'd find that ghostly pit.
  Through back door or down swallow hole,
  He'd find his way to it.
He pulled out rocks and dug the clay
  In dust and wind and wet,
  Until he found another clue—
  The cave that he called Sweat.
I don't know what he found in it
  Of coin or brooch or bone.
  But it was proof.  It had to be
  Of legends in the stone.
No question in his mind remained.
  His search had narrowed dosn.
  The Indian's trail had ened on
  The mountain east of town.
Now townsmen by their firesides
  On Dahmer's Hill or Hall's
  Through many a wint'ry eve could see
  His light and hear his calls.
They thought him crazed, They name him "Nuts"—
  The boy who searched for ghosts.
  They scarce believed that one so young
  Could accomplish ought but boasts.
But Devin Shane ignored their looks,
  Ignored them when they talked.
  His vision led.  He followed still.
  His lonely way he walked.
And in the end our Dev was right.
  The dream he'd had was true.
  He led us to a mossy place
  Of damp and dark and dew.
Where once a stream, it could be seen,
  Had splashed into the void.
  But now the place wsa mist and shade,
  Of light and life devoid.
We carried ropes through Evick Gap
  To that mountain east of town
  And knew before we dropped them in,
  We'd length on length let down.
Now one by one we glided in
  With silent, wond'ring awe.
  And far below we gathered 'round
  Spellbound by what we saw.
A piteous pile of scattered bones
  Lay hard against a wall.
  And large and small the remnants were,
  Some broken by their fall.
And intertwined among the bones,
  A tarnished silver chain.
  That lovely loop, bright shining once,
  Had proved and Indian's bane.
We never found the wooden chest.
  Who knows where it may be?
  But this I know and never doubt—
  That Dev's dreams are the key.
We dently carried up the bones
  And gently laid them down
  In proper graves with proper stones
  On that mountain east of town.
A hero now is Devin Shane.
  His lonely quest he'd won.
  But though the deepst yet at 513,
  Dev's pit is seldom done.
There is an air of pain and grief
  That echoes through the years,
  And settles on the gloomy face
  Of the cave that he named "Tears."
Packhorse Thighs
  To the Tune of Lyin’ Eyes by the Eagles (Henley and Frey)
©2003 H.A. Hurtt
Austin girls just seem to find out early
  How to open cave gates with a smile.
  A project caver, she won’t have to worry;
  She’ll get into Lechuguilla, Texas style.
  But a base camp sleeping bag can sure get lonely
  While your boyfriend’s out collecting cricket eggs.
  And it breaks here heart to know her love is only 
Interested in her firm, well-muscled legs.
You can’t hide your packhorse thighs,
  And that Porterville tank top cannot disguise 
  Biceps as big as any guy’s. 
  Ain’t no way to hide your packhorse thighs.
She tells him she must go out for the evening
  To help a friend whose station counts are down,
  But he knows where she’s going as she’s leaving.
  They both know Dave  Bunnell is back in town.
  D.B. tells her how sublime her face is.
  Says, “Let’s give this misty borehole shot a whirl.”
  But he fills her pack with armored camera cases,
  An’ while she holds his flash, he shoots another girl.
He can tell you exercise,
  And that Porterville tank top’s a thin disguise.
  Guess by now you realize
  You’re fated to hum gear for focused guys.
She leaves the cave in tears and starts her Ranger.
  Drivin’ through the night; returns to her old manb.
  Walks in to find him bedded with a stranger,
  And throws her out the door with one strong hand.
  He wakes and tells her no one can replace her.
  She grabs him by his throat and sweetly grins.
  She says, “I want some notice for my work, dear, 
  Or this neck of yours gets wrapped around your shins.”
You can’t hide your packhorse thighs,
  And that Porterville tank top cannot disguise 
  Biceps as big as any guy’s. 
  Ain’t no way to hide your packhorse thighs.
Well her pretty face is finally on a cover,
  Sharing space with an albino fairy shrimp.
  This isn’t how she thought she’d find a lover,
  But she’s got style no bug can ever crimp.
  Her plan for glory took a few bypasses,
  But she’s on track now and going back to school.
  She fed that skinny geek amino acids
  And got herself a project cavin’ mule.
He can’t hide your packhorse thighs,
  And that Porterville tank top cannot disguise 
  Biceps as big as any guy’s. 
  An’ ain’t no way to hide them packhorse thighs.
Cave Girls
© 2010 Bill Cooke
There’s a place, Cave girls go
  There’s a place, down below
  Hidden from, Light of Day
Cave girls they, Know the way
Finer than silver, precious as pearls
  Breaking hearts, all around the world
  Cave girls whisper, come with me
  To a place, below the sea
CHORUS
  Cave girls, cave girls, they’re so cool
  Cave girls, cave girls, cave girls rule
  Cave girls know their inner child
  Cave girls they are, going wild
Concentrate so they say
  Makes the rocks go away
  Ancient seas rise and fall
  Cave girls they’ve, seen it all
They are so, mysterious
  And if you are, curious
  What they know, didn’t learn from school
  In the dark, Cave girls rule
Winkelmeyer Cave                                                 
  To the tune of “On Top of Old Smokey”
  Lyrics by: Lannis Hancock    April ‘06                                               
It was April’s Fool’s Day
  and on Market Street
  Joe Light and Earl Hancock
went down thirty feet
They went down a manhole
  to the darkness below
  and into the tunnels
  of history they go
Into Winkelmeyer
  a brewery of old
  they wanted to survey
  and find Spanish gold
They took many photos,
  at red water did stop,
  coming back to the ladder
  they were called by a cop
“Come up and bring I.D.,”
  They heard Lannis shout
  A cop then leaned over
  and said, “Come on out!”
They came up the cable
  to be met by the fuzz
  They smelled like the sewer,
  all covered with scuzz
We found nothing down there
  but muck and syringes
  It looked like the junkies
  had all gone on binges
Who gave you a permit?
  The six cops did ask
  Earl looked like “Osama”,
  we were taken to task
They looked at maps and
  We had quite a session,
  as Earl and Joe gave them
  a history lesson              
                                      
  It was April Fool’s Day
  and on Market Street
  Joe Light and Earl Hancock 
  went down thirty feet
A Flowstone Away
  by Amanda Ray
Can you feel it flowing
  creating what we feel the most
  I can see it, deposits of my dreams are
  streaming down the walls of my reality
We are a flowstone away
No use to try and stop it
  watch it form with every drop
  and as strong as it may seem
  one touch will prove it’s fragility
We are a flowstone away
If I could see thru the eyes of the unborn
  layers of possibilities and 
  sheets of joy adorned my skin
We are a flowstone away
From our darkest moon 
  to our brightest star
  we are a flowstone away
Fossilized waves reminds me of a new day