Here's a song that I doubt has ever been written down anywhere. I learned it from the singing of the late Walt Robertson. It's not a traditional folk song, but if obscurity counts, it qualifies. It was written by a lady who I only know by her first name, "Nancy." Later today, I'll get in touch with Don Firth, I believe he knows her last name. Perhaps he can tell the story behind the song. To me, this sad ballad has always touched me. I sing it, just to myself. At the moment, I don't know how to help you with the melody. It's called "Cle Elum Girl." Cle Elum is a small mountain town, just East of the summit of Snoqualimie Pass, in Eastern Washington.

CLE ELLUM GIRL

Cle Elum girl, where is your home,
Why do you still roam?

Well, when I was a little girl
Lived on my Daddy's farm
If I'da stayed where I was born,
I'd never come to harm

Many courtin' boys came by my door
Just to see what they could see
With pretty songs to turn my head
And pretty toys for me.

They took me down into the town
Danced 'till the break of day
And what I gave them in return
Seemed a little price to pay

But promises and lies don't last
So I left my home
Now I'm a poor Cle Ellum whore
No place left to roam.

Cle Elum girl, hang down your head
Cry when the night is down