The First Whippoorwill - Bill Monroe

Springtime is near my darling

You say that you are going away

My heart will be with you my darling

And I’m counting now the days

I know that soon I’ll have to travel

I know I’m over the hill

I feel so all alone my darling said she’d be gone

When I heard that first whippoorwill

The flowers are blooming little darling

With the budding of the trees

I hear the night birds a crying

I know that they are warning me

Our love was planted little darling

Just like the farmer plants his grain

But there will never be a harvest

On the hills the whippoorwills now sing