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American Ballads and Folk Songs
And here's to the cook, I wish he was dead, It's old boiled beef and old corn bread.
The chuck they give us is beef and corn bread, As old as Hell and as heavy as lead.
We pop it down in us within our cells, Just like the pop from Heaven to Hell.
The coffee is rough, and the yard is full of hogs, And we are guarded by two bulldogs.
No longer than yesterday I heard the jailer say, He was feeding the prisoners at two dollars a day.
The times was so hard at such poor pay,
He couldn't feed 'em grub but two times a day.
Our bed it is made of old rotten rugs.
When we lay down, we are all covered with bugs5
And the bugs they swear if we don't give bail, We are bound to get busy in the Tucson jail.
The nits and the lice, climb in the jist,
One fell down and hollered, "Jesus Christ!"
I said, "Mister Jailer, please lend me your knife, For the lice and the bedbugs have threatened my life."
Old Judge Simpkins will read us the law, The damndest fool judge you ever saw.
And here's to the lawyer, he'll come to your sell, "Give me five dollars and I'll clear you in spite of Hell.''
But your money they will get before they will rest} Then say, "Plead guilty, for I think it is best."