The Pennsic Laundry Mountain
\nwords by Bill Sutton \u00a92018 Mad Tom Music, music by Harry McClintock (“The Big Rock Candy Mountain”)<\/p>\n
One evening as the sun went down
\nAnd the final fires was burning
\nDown the road came a gentle noble
\nAnd he said, “I’ll be returning
\nI’m headed for a town run far away
\nAnd the days ’till then I’m countin’
\nBut before I’m seen I’ll have to clean
\nThe Pennsic Laundry Mountain.<\/p>\n
“Oh, the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
\nWhere the clothes are foul and damp,
\nWhere the fungus grows unbidden
\nAnd the mildew waits its chance.
\nWhere the cats refuse to enter
\nAnd the dog rolls all around
\nOn the braes and the hose
\nAnd the muddy wet clothes
\nThe malodorous air
\nOf the underwear
\nIn the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.<\/p>\n
“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
\nAll the hems have gruesome spots
\nAnd the linen looks like mohair
\nAnd it gurgles as it rots.
\nThe scrip is full of something
\nThat smells like rotten eggs
\nOh don’t make me go
\nTo that woven mow
\nWhere the stench begins
\nAnd there’s no upwind
\nIn the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.<\/p>\n
“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
\nThere’s mounds of single socks
\nSome streaming wet with something foul
\nAnd some as hard as rocks.
\nThe crusted doublets tip their hats
\nAnd the bog dress curtsies low
\nThere’s a lake of goo
\nAnd black mud too
\nYou could paddle all around
\nIn a big canoe
\nIn the Pennsic Laundry Mountain.<\/p>\n
“In the Pennsic Laundry Mountain
\nWhere the foothills grow all day
\nAnd you can’t hope to contain it
\n‘Cause the baskets melt away.
\nI’ll roll my sleeves and gird my loins
\nAnd coat myself with oil
\nI’ll dive right in
\nTo that noisome bin
\nAnd I’ll take a knee
\nTo the Lord Febreeze
\nIn the Pennsic Laundry Mountain<\/p>\n
And I’ll see you all
\nIf I do not fall
\nTo the Pennsic Laundry Mountain<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Pennsic Laundry Mountain words by Bill Sutton \u00a92018 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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":26,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-30","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P9APdO-u","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/30","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/30\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":31,"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/30\/revisions\/31"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/26"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bsutton.com\/dai\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}