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Men at Work |
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i My gal don5 wear button-up shoes, Her feet too big for gaiters, All she's fit fur—a dip of snuff And a yallow yam potato.
Jint ahead, center back,
Did you ever work on the railroad track?
2 My dog died of whooping cough, My mule died of distemper,
Me 'n' my gal can't git along,
She's got a pretty bad temper.
Tighten on the backhand, loosen on the bow, And-a whoa! quit pickin' that banjo so!
3 You go saddle the old gray mare, And I will plow old muley.
I'll make a turn 'fore the sun goes down, And I'll go back home to Julie.
Rowdy-o! Rowdy-o!
If you got the wagon loaded, let me see you go!
4 Takes four wheels to hold a load, Takes two mules to pull double, Take me back to Georgia Land And I won't be no trouble.
Whoa! |
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