Folk and Traditional Song Lyrics:
Rocky Mountain

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Rocky Mountain

Rocky Mountain

Rocky mountain, rocky hill
Rocky hill was grassy.
There I met a purty young miss,
Lord but she was sassy.

     Lord Lord Lord
     (repeat last line of verse)

How old are you, my purty little miss?
How old are you, my honey?
She answered me "Lord Lord
Be seventeen come Sunday."

Come go with me my purty little miss
Come go with me, miss Nancy.
She answered me "Lord, Lord
You'd better ask my mammy."

Take my knapsack on my back
Rifle on my shoulder.
Goin' down to New Orleans
Goin' to be a soldier.
Note: Collected from Rufus Crisp, Allen KY, ca.1953. His "Lord
Lord" might have been "Law Law". Rufus wasn't too strong on
enunciation, but he frailed a mighty banjo.RG

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