" Fer Those Pickers "

'Twas a cold cold day o'tune, Fer those pickers down in Boone. Fiddles brought so had they'd ought, Newest feathers just store bought, 'Twas a cold cold day a'tune. Fer those pickers down in Boone, That wind she whistled well. A'high up steeple rung that bell, As sun did set upon those met, 'Twas a cold cold day a'tune. Those fiddles danced as songs were sung, Among those there abandon flung. On a cold cold day a'tune, Fer those pickers down in Boone. Oh now banshee wailed her greatest plea, On that cold cold day a'tune. While nighthawk sailed his flight o'free, Fer those pickers down in Boone. SeaWolf ©