| Sitting by the roadside on a summer’s day
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| Chatting with my mess-mates, passing time away
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| Laying in the shadows underneath the trees
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| Goodness how delicious eating goober peas
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| Peas, peas, peas, peas
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| Eating goober peas
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| Goodness how delicious
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| Eating goober peas
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| When a horse-man passes, the soldiers have a rule
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| To cry out at their loudest, «Mister, here’s your mule?»
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| But another pleasure enchanting-er than these
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| Is wearing out your grinders, eating goober peas
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| Peas, peas, peas, peas
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| Eating goober peas
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| Is wearing out your grinders
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| Eating goober peas
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| Just before the battle, the General hears a row
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| He said, «The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now»
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| He turns around in wonder and what do you think he sees?
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| The Georgia Militia eating goober peas
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| Peas, peas, peas, peas
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| Eating goober peas
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| The Georgia Militia
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| Eating goober peas
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| I think my song has lasted almost long enough
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| The subject’s interesting but the rhymes are mighty tough
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| I wish this war was over and free from rags and fleas
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| We’d kiss our wives and sweethearts, and gobble goober peas
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| Peas, peas, peas, peas
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| Gobble goober peas
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| We’d kiss our wives and sweethearts
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| And gobble goober peas |