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

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 co*kleburrs 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 Ess** County Fair Ess** 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 Old Dan Wheeling, with his whiskers in his ears King-pin fiddler for nearly twenty years Big Tom Sergeant, with his blue wall-eye An' Little Jimmy Weezer that can make a fiddle cry All sittin' roun', spittin' high an' struttin' proud (Listen, little whippoorwill, yuh better bug yore eyes!) Tun-a-tun-a-tunin' while the jedges told the crowd Them that got the mostest claps'd win the bestest prize Everybody waitin' for the first tweedle-dee When in comes a-stumblin' -- hill-billy me Bowed right pretty to the jedges an' the rest Took a silver dollar from a hole inside my vest Plunked it on the table an' said, "There's my callin' card An' anyone that licks me -- well, he's got to fiddle hard" Old Dan Wheeling, he was laughin' fit to holler Little Jimmy Weezer said, "There's one dead dollar" Big Tom Sergeant had a yaller-toothy grin But I tucked my little whippoorwill spang underneath my chin An' petted it an' tuned it till the jedges said, "Begin!" Big Tom Sargent was the first in line He could fiddle all the bugs off a sweet-potato vine He could fiddle down a possum from a mile-high tree He could fiddle up a whale from the bottom of the sea Yuh could hear hands spankin' till they spanked each other raw When he finished variations on "Turkey in the Straw." Little Jimmy Weezer was the next to play He could fiddle all night, he could fiddle all day He could fiddle chills, he could fiddle fever He could make a fiddle rustle like a lowland river He could make a fiddle croon like a lovin' woman An' they clapped like thunder when he'd finished strummin' Then came the ruck of the bob-tailed fiddlers The let's-go-easies, the fair-to-middlers They got their claps an' they lost their bicker An' they all settled back for some more corn-licker An' the crowd was tired of their no-count squealing When out in the center steps Old Dan Wheeling He fiddled high and he fiddled low (Listen, little whippoorwill, yuh got to spread yore wings! He fiddled and fiddled with a cherrywood bow (Old Dan Wheeling's got bee-honey in his strings) He fiddled a wind by the lonesome moon He fiddled a most almighty tune He started fiddling like a ghost He ended fiddling like a host. He fiddled north an' he fiddled south, He fiddled the heart right out of yore mouth. He fiddled here an' he fiddled there He fiddled salvation everywhere When he was finished, the crowd cut loose (Whippoorwill, they's rain on yore breast.) An' I sat there wonderin' "What's the use?" (Whippoorwill, fly home to yore nest.) But I stood up pert an' I took my bow An' my fiddle went to my shoulder, so An' -- they wasn't no crowd to get me fazed -- But I was alone where I was raised Up in the mountains, so still it makes yuh skeered. Where God lies sleepin' in his big white beard. An' I heard the sound of the squirrel in the pine, An' I heard the earth a-breathin' thu' the long night-time They've fiddled the rose, and they've fiddled the thorn But they haven't fiddled the mountain-corn They've fiddled sinful an' fiddled moral But they haven't fiddled the breshwood-laurel They've fiddled loud, and they've fiddled still But they haven't fiddled the whippoorwill I started off with a dump-diddle-dump (Oh, hell's broke loose in Georgia) Skunk-cabbage growin' by the bee-gum stump. (Whippoorwill, yo're singin' now) My mother was a whippoorwill pert, My father, he was lazy, But I'm hell broke loose in a new store shirt To fiddle all Georgia crazy. Swing yore partners -- up an' down the middle! Sashay now -- oh, listen to that fiddle! Flapjacks flippin' on a red-hot griddle An' hell's broke loose, Hell's broke loose, Fire on the mountains -- snakes in the gra**. Satan's here a-bilin' -- oh, Lordy, let him pa** Go down Moses, set my people free; Pop goes the weasel thu' the old Red Sea Jonah sittin' on a hickory-bough Up jumps a whale -- an' where's yore prophet now? Rabbit in the pea-patch, possum in the pot Try an' stop my fiddle, now my fiddle's gettin' hot Whippoorwill, singin' thu' the mountain hush Whippoorwill, shoutin' from the burnin' bush Whippoorwill, cryin' in the stable-door Sing tonight as yuh never sang before Hell's broke loose like a stompin' mountain-shoat Sing till yuh bust the gold in yore throat Hell's broke loose for forty miles aroun' Bound to stop yore music if yuh don['t sing it down Sing on the mountains, little whippoorwill Sing to the valleys, an' slap 'em with a hill For I'm struttin' high as an eagle's quill An' hell's broke loose Hell's broke loose Hell's broke loose in Georgia They wasn't a sound when I stopped bowin' (Whippoorwill, yuh can sing no more.) But, somewhere or other, the dawn was growin' (Oh, mountain whippoorwill) An' I thought, "I've fiddled all night an' lost Yo're a good hill-billy, but yuh've been bossed" So I went to congratulate old man Dan -- But he put his fiddle into my han' -- An' then the noise of the crowd began