| Along about sun-up every day
|
| I grab my bucket and I’m on my way
|
| I go down the road a runnin' and a kickin'
|
| I’m headed for the patch to do some blackberry pickin'
|
| I fill my bucket right to the top
|
| It makes my lips go flippety-flop
|
| I hear a little voice and it sounds so sad
|
| It said, ?Don't pick me now 'cause I ain’t ripe, dad?
|
| Blackberry boogie, blackberry boogie
|
| I’m brought back like a flip
|
| When it’s blackberry pickin' time
|
| I went to see my gal, I set my bucket down
|
| She said, ?Hi there baby, are you goin' to town?
|
| I said, ?Uh-uh honey, I’m a goin' where they scratch
|
| I’ll meet you in a minute in the blackberry patch?
|
| She grabs her bucket and she jumps and squeals
|
| I’m headin' for the bushes and she’s hot on my heels
|
| I start pickin' on one end, she picks on the other
|
| We meet in the middle and she yells, ?Oh, brother?
|
| Blackberry boogie, blackberry boogie
|
| Oh, I love that girl
|
| When I meet her in the middle of the patch
|
| We go through the briars walkin' hand in hand
|
| Pickin' blackberries just to beat the band
|
| I grab her for a kiss, she said, ?Turn me loose
|
| Your lips are all blue from that blackberry juice?
|
| I hug her once and said, ?Don't be coy
|
| You know I’m your blackberry pickin' boy?
|
| I kissed her then and she let out a sigh
|
| And said, ?Let's go to my house and bake a pie?
|
| Blackberry boogie, blackberry boogie
|
| I’ll be back little gal
|
| When it’s blackberry pickin' time |