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.)
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My Mother began reading special stories and poems to me very early in life. I remember her reading this one and not knowing the author, have been searching for its copy all these years. THis morning I realized I had been mis-spelling Whippoorwill... and stumbled upon your page! ! ! I am ecstatic! I LOVED this reading!
This has been one of my favorite poems since I first heard it in the 10th grade, some 53 years ago. Morris Bruns, an English & Speech teacher recited it to my homeroom class at Lubbock High School. He instilled in me a love of poetry from that moment on.
........truly this is a masterpiece....a great contest indeed....would love to have been there to hear the fiddles...............love this poem....truly a pleasure to read...
A poem from an author as great as this country has ever produced!