Poverty Hill (Fred Hellerman) They come in their summery dress and jackets so fine Rich folks who measure success with a big dollar sign They gaze with delight at the rocks and the scraggly pine They come in the spring and they stay til the fall On Paradise Mountain, away from it all Stubble and stone make a hard row to hoe What little will grow the drought will kill The summer folks call it Paradise Mountain We call it Poverty Hill They say we have beautiful faces as grainy as wood Yeah, they'd like to live here, of all places, if only they could Well we don't get these wood grainy faces from living too good Its the rocks and the dust and the sun and the heat Its too much work and too little to eat They pack and they say what a pity that they have to go They say that Old Smoky's so pretty all covered with snow But how we get thru the winter they never will know No lard for the pantry, no grist for the mill And winter's are hard over Poverty Hill SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!