Way back in the mountains, way back in the hills There used to live a mountaineer, they called him Fiddlin' Will He could play most anything and some say he could sing But the one thing that he liked to do best was sawin' on the strings
So get out the fiddle, rosin up the bow Look at ol' Will, a-pattin' his toe He'll make music 'til the rafters ring Ol' man pickin' an' sawin' on the strings
When the neighbors had a shindig, an' they all had vittles to eat We always had to wait on Will for the frolic to be complete When he comes down from the mountains all the gals begin to sway Sometimes he pick that old five-string, until the break of the day
So tune up the five-string, tighten up the hide Tell all the young folks to get inside He'll make music 'til the rafters ring Ol' man pickin' an' sawin' on the strings
So tune up the five-string, tighten up the hide Tell all the young folks to get inside He'll make music til the rafters ring Ol' man pickin' an' sawin' on the strings.