Lonesome Water
Roy Addison Helton, b. 1886
Lonesome Water (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1930).

It's interesting to see the "folk process" at work here. In the column to the left are the original words, and to the right are the words as I learned them. Fascinating to see how they evolved / changed!

The original version: Drank lonesome water: Weren't but a tad then Up in a laurel thick Digging for sang; Came on a place where The stones was holler; Something below them Tinkled and rang. Dug where I heard it Drippling below me: Should a knowed better, Should a been wise; Leant down and drank it, Clutching and gripping The overhung cliv With the ferns in my eyes. Tweren't no tame water I knowed in a minute; Must a been laying there Projecting round Since winter went home; Must a laid like a cushion, Where the feet of the blossoms Was tucked in the ground. Tasted of heart leaf, And that smells the sweetest, Paw paw and spice bush And wild briar Rose; Must a been counting The heels of the spruce pines And neighboring round Where angelica grows. I'd drunk lonesome water, I knowed in a minute Never larnt nothing From then till today; Nothing worth larning, Nothing worth knowing. I'm bound to the hills And I can't get away. Mean sort of dried up old Groundhoggy feller, Laying cold out here Watching the sky; Pore as a hipporwill, Bent like a grass blade; Counting up stars Till they count too high. I know where the grey foxes Uses up yander, Know what'll cure ye Of ptisic or chills, But I never been way from here, Never got going: I've drunk lonesome water. I'm bound to the hills.

The way I learned it: I drank lonesome water I was a child then Up in the willow brake Huntin' for a sign Came on a place where The rocks was made hollow And the water beneath me Rippled and rhymed I drank lonesome water Knowed in a minute Shoulda done better, Lord, Shoulda been more wise But I knelt down and drank of it Slowly and freely 'Neath the overhanging cliffs With ferns in my eyes Now it wasn't tame water Knowed in a minute Musta been lyin' there Since Winter went home Lyin' in the place where The rocks was made hollow Lyin' in the shadow Of the cool marble stone (verse omitted) (verse omitted, tho I remember Dierdre singing it) Now if you meet a dried up Groundhoggy fella Poor as the whippoorwill Blue as the sky Lyin' on his back in The cool grassy meadow Countin' the stars 'Till stars count too high 'Cause I know where the grey fox Runs out yonder I know what'll cure you Of aches and of chills But I'm never gonna leave here Never get a-goin' I drank lonesome water I'm bound to these hills I'm bound to these hills And I can't Get away .......

Here's another one of his poems, called "Old Christmas."
and here's Steven Vincent Benet's "The Mountain Whip-poor-will"