Field Trip 2, October 2016: Environmental Science Walks The Muddy River

Black Muddy River (by Jerry Garcia, Robert Hunter)
When the last rose of summer pricks my finger,
And the hot sun chills me to the bone,
When I can’t hear the song for the singer,
And I can’t tell my pillow from a stone,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.

Complete lyrics here.