(Traditional Appalachian)

Goin’ up to Cripple Creek

Goin’ on a run

Goin’ up to Cripple Creek to have a little fun

Goin’ up to Cripple Creek

Goin’ on a whirl

Goin’ up to Cripple Creek to see my girl

I got a gal at the head of the creek

Goin up to see her bout the middle of the week

Kiss her on the mouth just as sweet as any wine

Wraps herself around me like a sweet potato vine

I’ll eat when Im hungry, drink when Im dry

Get to feelin’ much better Ill sprout wings and fly

If the river was whiskey and I was a duck

I’d dive to the bottom and never come up