Nottamun Town

Appalachian version of an English song, possibly based on a mummers' play

In Nottamun Town, not a soul would look up,
Not a soul would look up, not a soul would look down,
Not a soul would look up, not a soul would look down,
To show me the way to fair Nottamun Town.

I rode a white horse, a strawberry roan,
Gray mane and gray tail, green stripe down her back,
Gray mane and gray tail, green stripe down her back,
And not a hair on her but what was coal black.

She stood so still, she threw me to the dirt,
She tore at my hide and bruised my shirt,
From saddle to stirrup I mounted again,
And on my ten toes I rode over the plain.

Met the King and the Queen, and a company more,
A-riding behind and a-marching before,
Came a stark naked drummer, a-beating his drum,
With his hands in his pockets, came marching along.

They laughed and they smiled, not a soul did look gay,
They talked all the while, not a word did they say,
I bought me a quart to keep gladness away,
And to stifle the dust, for it rained the whole day.

Sat down on a hard, hot, cold, frozen stone,
Ten thousand stood around me, yet I was alone,
Took my hat in my hands for to keep my head warm,
Ten thousand got drownded that never was born.