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American Ballads and Folk Songs
Way up on Clinch Mountain
I wander alone j I'm as drunk as the devil,
Oh, let me alone.
You may boast of your knowledge
En' brag of your sense, 'Twill all be forgotten
A hundred years hence.
In my little log cabin,
Ever since I been born, Dere ain't been no nothin'
'Cept dat hard salt, parched cornj But I know whar's a henhouse,
De turkey he charve; An' if ol' Mas'er don' kill me
I cain't never starve.
Rye whisky, rye whisky,
You're no friend to mej You killed my poor daddy,
Goddamn you, try me.
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