| Way back in the mountains
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| Way back in the hills
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| There used to live a mountaineer
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| They called him Fiddlin' Will
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| He could play most anything
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| And some say he could sing
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| But the one thing that he liked to do best
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| Was sawing on the strings
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| So get out the fiddle
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| And rosin up the bow
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| Look at ol' Will a pattin' his toe
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| We’ll make music til the rafters ring
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| All that pickin' and a sawin on the strings
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| When the neighbors had a shindig
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| And they all had vittles to eat
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| We’d always have to wait on Will
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| For the frolic to be complete
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| When he comes down from the mountain
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| All the gals began to sway
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| Sometimes he’d pick that ol' 5-string
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| Until the break of day
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| So tune up the 5-string
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| Tighten up the hide
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| Tell all the young folks to get inside
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| We’ll make music til the rafters ring
|
| All them pickin' and a sawing on the string
|
| So tune up the 5-string
|
| Tighten up the hide
|
| Tell all the young folks to get inside
|
| We’ll make music til the rafters ring
|
| All them pickin' and a sawing on the string |