Stephen Vincent Benet
Pennsylvania / United States
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The Mountain Whippoorwill

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.)
Up in the mountains, mountains in the fog,
Everythin's as lazy as an old houn' dog.
Born in the mountains, never raised a pet,
Don't want nuthin' an' never got it yet.
Born in the mountains, lonesome-born,
Raised runnin' ragged thu' the cockleburrs and corn.

Never knew my pappy, mebbe never should.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
ripsnortinroy 03 June 2018

A poem from an author as great as this country has ever produced!

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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!

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Roddy Howsley 25 February 2017

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.

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* Sunprincess * 27 May 2014

........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...

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