Way Up On Clinch Mountain

Way up on Clinch Mountain where the wild geese fly high,
I'll think of little Allie en lay down en die.

You may boast of yore knowledge, en brage o' yore sense,
'Twill all be forgotten a hundred years hence.

Oh Lulu, oh Lulu, oh Lulu, my dear.
I'd give the whole world if my Lulu was hyer.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.