| Old Joe Clark, the preacher’s son
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| Preached all over the plain
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| The only text he ever knew
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| Was high low jack and the game
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| Fare thee well Old Joe Clark
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| Fare thee well I’m bound
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| Fare thee well Old Joe Clark
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| Goodbye Betsy Brown
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| Old Joe Clark had a mule
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| His name was Morgan Brown
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| And every tooth in that mule’s head
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| Was sixteen inches round
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| Old Joe Clark had a yellow cat
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| She would neither sing nor pray
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| Stuck her head in a buttermilk jar
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| And washed her sins away
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| Old joe clark had a house
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| Fifteen stories high
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| And every story in that house
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| Was filled with chicken pie
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| I went down to Old Joe’s house
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| He invited me to supper
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| I stumped my toe on the table leg
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| And stuck my nose in the butter
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| Wished I had a sweetheart
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| Put her on the shelf
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| And every time she’d smile at me
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| I’d get up there myself |