The First Whippoorwill - Bill Monroe

Springtime is near my darling
You say that you are going away
My heart will be with you my darling
And I?m counting now the days
I know that soon I?ll have to travel
I know I?m over the hill
I feel so all alone my darling said she?d be gone
When I heard that first whippoorwill
The flowers are blooming little darling
With the budding of the trees
I hear the night birds a crying
I know that they are warning me
Our love was planted little darling
Just like the farmer plants his grain
But there will never be a harvest
On the hills the whippoorwills now sing