| When I was a little boy, bare-footed, I’d like to go
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| In the spring or summertime, there was no ice or snow
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| When I was tired and nearly dead, these are the words that Mamma said
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| Go and wash those dirty feet before you go to bed
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| When I would get out off school, I could hardly wait
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| I’d have my brogans in my hand before I’d hit the gate
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| I’d wrought them plain till nearly dead, that same old line, Mamma always said
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| Go and wash those dirty feet before you go to bed
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| When winter’s passed and the violets bloom and the springtime rose around
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| My tiny feet got to itchin' so to touch the cool cool ground
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| But I remember what Mamma said, those words still echo through my head
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| Go and wash those dirty feet before you go to bed
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| I draw the water from the well and grab the Old Ma’s teeth
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| Just a-fussin' and a-fumin' like any ordinary man
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| But if I’m brushin' off instead, Mamma would make my bottom red
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| Go and wash them dirty feet before you go to bed |