Mountain Whippoorwill (Or, How Hillbilly Jim Won the Great Fiddler’s Prize) Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Up in the mountains, it's lonesome all the time
(Sof' win' slewin' thu' the sweet-potato vine.)
Up in the mountains, it's lonesome for a child
(Whippoorwills a-callin' when the sap runs wild.)

Up in the mountains, mountains in the fog
Everythin's as lazy as an old houn' dog
Born in the mountains, never raised a pet
Don't want nuthin' an' never got it yet

Born in the mountains, lonesome-born
Raised runnin' ragged thu' the cockleburrs and corn
Never knew my pappy, mebbe never should
Think he was a fiddle made of mountain laurel-wood

Never had a mammy to teach me pretty-please
Think she was a whippoorwill, a-skittin' thu' the trees
Never had a brother ner a whole pair of pants
But when I start to fiddle, why, yuh got to start to dance

Listen to my fiddle -- Kingdom Come -- Kingdom Come
Hear the frogs a-chunkin' "Jug o' rum, Jug o' rum"
Hear that mountain whippoorwill be lonesome in the air
An' I'll tell yuh how I travelled to the Essex County Fair

Essex County has a mighty pretty fair
All the smarty fiddlers from the South come there
Elbows flyin' as they rosin up the bow
For the First Prize Contest in the Georgia Fiddlers' Show