| Tin shacks and catfish bones
|
| Have been about all I’ve ever known
|
| The junebugs rattle and roll
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| Around the old maypole
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| Thunder and lightning
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| I said the catfish are biting
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| I took a riverboat downstream
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| I think you know what I mean
|
| The chicken hawks, they are gathering
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| Above my head, they are circling
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| Old friends coming out visiting
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| Say, «Hi,» and talk about collecting
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| Stray dogs won’t come near me
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| Was blind, now I see clearly
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| Believe I’m fixing to die
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| When you’re living in the country it’s, «why, oh why?»
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| Oh, I’m sorry that I left my home
|
| Look over yonder there
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| On the farther shore
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| On the farther shore
|
| Look over yonder there
|
| I see a ship of gold
|
| I see a ship of gold
|
| Beyond that mountain there
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| I see a City on the Hill
|
| Its gates are open wide
|
| I hear the ringing bells
|
| Look over yonder there
|
| On toward the burying ground
|
| Poor boy is all afire
|
| Poor boy is dead and gone
|
| One of these days
|
| The Ship of Gold
|
| Will carry me
|
| To my reward
|
| Out of this world
|
| It will take me
|
| To hear the horns of Jubilee
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| Pig fat and old pork rinds
|
| Ain’t enough to keep a man alive
|
| The bullfrog sleeps all day
|
| Come night he has his say
|
| Believe I’m fixing to die
|
| Believe I’ll take my rest
|
| Believe I’m fixing to die
|
| Believe I’ll take my rest
|
| Oh, I’m sorry that I left my home |