There was an old man and he went to school
and he made his li-ving by dri-ving a mule.
And what John-ny Booker wouldn't do do do;
and what John-ny Book-er wouldn't do.
And what Johnny Booker wouldn't do do do
and what Hohnny Booker wouldn't do.
I drove him up to the foot of the hill
and hollered at the mule and the mule stood still.
I put my shoulder agin the wheel,
and back in the mud I stuck my heel.
I put my shoulder against the cart,
and I hollered at the mule and the mule wouldn't start.
I drove him up to the blacksmith shop,
I hollered at the mule and the mule didn't stop.
I asked that fireman to mend my yoke,
He hoped to the bellows and blowed up the smoke.
He fixed my yoke he mend my ring,
He never charged me nary a thing.
Said an old man come riding by,
Say "young man your mules going to die"
If he dies, I'll tan his skin,
If he lives, I'll ride him again
I had an old mule his name was Pete
he walked on his head to save his feet.
I had an old mule his name was Bill
I worked him in the holler and he died on the hill.
I rode him to the river and I couldn't get him in
I knocked him on the head with a buck car limb
I went to the river and I couldn't get across
I hopped on a bull frog, thought he was a horse.