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

cho:
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, ca1953 His "Lord
Lord" might have been "Law Law" Rufus wasn't too strong on
enunciation, but he frailed a mighty banjoRG
See also YONHIGH
@courtship @soldier
filename[ ROCKYMT
RG
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