«Oh, mos' feet and it hang, can't you see?» I groan.
She says, 'Oh, wha' 'ts arright.» I said, «Jesus, don't take it at all.»
She's a past-cold beauty, but she can't light a cannonball.
Now, down by the river she's a-hop on her knees,
And I holler to my baby, yelling, «Please, please, please!»
Oh, then I hit her and doubt my chase at all.
Now, no hoax. Let's go! But it's that pure soul, and it's off the ball.
Now, honey, I'm makin' a hot to road.
Now I'm happy to leaving, but it's a heavy load.
I said, «Ah, my babe. She don't meet me no half at all.»
Dress it up. Best to pick up, bub: better have it all.
Well, hot dog, goody me. Settle on a trail
Down apart my knees I can't find my kerry. Find a nail!
She old top these… oh, better hold mine up.
Please, let's go, 'n' I hope it don't interrupt.
[Oh, do it again, now. One time for Bozo and his dog.
Hot skimmin', jumpaway. yay, yay, yay, yay.]
I hope it come' easy; I hope it comes hard;
I hope I sit me down yon' sit a little a chicken yard.
Open up, ol' Henry. Get that boy on home.
Tell Bess momma, he's up 'n' gone too long.