On the banks of the Don there's a dear little spot,
A boarding house proper where you get your meals hot.
You get fine bread and water and you won't pay a cent:
Your taxes are paid for, your board and your rent.
cho: So turn out ev'ry man of you, all in a line,
From the cell to the stoneyard you all must keep time,
You work like a Turk till the bell it strikes one
ln that grand institution just over the Don.
If you want to get into that palace so neat,
Take tanglefoot whiskey and get drunk in the street.
You'll have a fine carriage to drive you from town
To that grand institution just over the Don.
Our boarders are honest, not one of them steal,
For they count all the knives and forks after each meal
Our windows are airy and barred up beside
To keep our good boarders from falling outside.