The Pennsic Laundry Mountain
words by Bill Sutton ©2018 Mad Tom Music, music by Harry McClintock (“The Big Rock Candy Mountain”)

One evening as the sun went down
And the final fires was burning
Down the road came a gentle noble
And he said, “I’ll be returning
I’m headed for a town run far away
And the days ’till then I’m countin’
But before I’m seen I’ll have to clean
The Pennsic Laundry Mountain.

“Oh, the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
Where the clothes are foul and damp,
Where the fungus grows unbidden
And the mildew waits its chance.
Where the cats refuse to enter
And the dog rolls all around
On the braes and the hose
And the muddy wet clothes
The malodorous air
Of the underwear
In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.

“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
All the hems have gruesome spots
And the linen looks like mohair
And it gurgles as it rots.
The scrip is full of something
That smells like rotten eggs
Oh don’t make me go
To that woven mow
Where the stench begins
And there’s no upwind
In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.

“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
There’s mounds of single socks
Some streaming wet with something foul
And some as hard as rocks.
The crusted doublets tip their hats
And the bog dress curtsies low
There’s a lake of goo
And black mud too
You could paddle all around
In a big canoe
In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.

“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
Where the foothills grow all day
And you can’t hope to contain it
‘Cause the baskets melt away.
I’ll roll my sleeves and gird my loins
And coat myself with oil
I’ll dive right in
To that noisome bin
And I’ll take a knee
To the Lord Febreeze
In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain

And I’ll see you all
If I do not fall
To the Pennsic Laundry Mountain