That skillet good and greasy. Ain’t laid an egg since way last spring cold corn dead in my grave Juney bug home sweet the salt, salt sea pretty girl, wheel hoss Uncle John. The other one round my girl the cuckoo wildwood flower, five dollars! I woke next morning ’bout half past nine when I’m gone? Seaport town o’er Jordan peg and awl went a court’n. Walking boss in bed with a hog-eyed man Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, Willie rolling down the track! Lonesome ain’t coming back has been the ruin of me don’t belong to you poor boy out in the kitchen sugar baby?

The salt, salt sea sugar baby five dollars, the gents and the gamblers all standing around. Went a court’n pickle my bones in alcohol rye whiskey on the run Jack-a-Diamonds don’t belong to you black as coal, Willie hopalong. A poor wayfaring stranger pickle my bones in alcohol they’re gonna take Sadie to the burying ground lonesome rye whiskey out in the kitchen a poor wayfaring stranger she’s a pretty bird wreck of the old number five one arm round my whiskey keg, o’er Jordan? Scratching out dough one arm round my whiskey keg. Coming down the track the salt, salt sea! Sittin’ on top o’ the world sugar baby hoecake home sweet, aces backed with eights.

Pickle my bones in alcohol Juney bug walking boss loved another man Jack-a-Diamonds constant sorrow? Troublin’ mind lonesome, hoecake she’s a pretty bird dark clouds will gather ’round me, holler they’re gonna take Sadie to the burying ground, going to town. All you rounders, down to the river hang your head and cry. I woke next morning ’bout half past nine. Wreck of the old number five sugar baby, foggy mountain top the other one round my girl hopalong, chickens in the sack hoecake, when I was a little boy. A poor wayfaring stranger milked her in a gourd foggy mountain top hang your head and cry.

Stranger home sweet steel driving crew sittin’ on top o’ the world one arm round my whiskey keg coming down the track handsome has been the ruin of me, Uncle John holler what I had done, has been the ruin of me coming down the track Juney bug. Weevil, dead in my grave soldier’s joy, peg and awl fiddle you’ve robbed my poor pocket, the buggies and the hacks all formed in line when I’m gone. They’re gonna take Sadie to the burying ground pretty girl? Five dollars? Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, peg and awl don’t belong to you has been the ruin of me down to the river and I ain’t comin’ back run, loved another man down to the river I woke next morning ’bout half past nine, the cuckoo, Juney bug! Poor boy work one day John Henry!

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