When I was young I used to wait,
On master and hand him his plate,
And pass the bottle when he got dry,
And brush away the blue tailed fly.
CHOR: Jimmy crackcorn, and I don't care,
Jimmy Crackcorn and I don't care,
My master's gone away.
And when he'd ride in the afternoon,
I'd follow after with a hickory broom;
The being like to shy
When bitten by the blue tailed fly!
One day he ride around the farm,
The flies so numerous, they did swarm.
On chanced to bight him on the thigh;
The devil take the blue tailed fly.
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The pony run, he jump, he pitch;
He threw my master in the ditch.
He died, the jury wondered why,
The verdict was the blue tailed fly.
They laid him under a 'simmon tree;
His epitaph is there to see;
Beneath this ston I'm forced to lie.
A victim of the blue tailed fly.
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