Archive for the ‘food’ Tag

Seven Cent Cotton Forty Cent Meat

Seven cent cotton forty sent meat
How in the world can a poor man eat
Pray for the sunshine cause it will rain
Things getting worse drivin all insane
Built a nice barn painted it brown
Lightening came along and burnt it down
No use talkin any man’s beat with
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
Seven cent cotton a carload of tax
The loads too heavy for our poor backs
We got a set of farmers we all know well
But there’s something wrong sure as hell
We all work hard we groan and sweat
Now we plum ruined and a blowed up set
No use talkin any mans beat with
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat

No corn in the cob no chicks in the yard
No meat in the smokehouse no tubs full of lard
No cream in the pitcher no honey in the mug
No butter on the table and no lasses in the jug
Things to eat are always high
Everyone is selling no one will buy
We quit kickin the faults not our own
We just can’t reap where we have sown
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
keep gettin thinner cause we don’t eat
Tried to raise peas tried to raise beans
All we can raise is turnip greens
Folks always sick paw mus cough
Aint had no sugar since Ma dropped off
No use talkin any man’s beat with
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat

Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
How in the world can a poor man eat
Flour up high cotton down low
how in the world can we raise the dough
Our clothes worn our shoes run down
Old slouch had with a hole in the crown
Back nearly broken Fingers all wore
Cotton goin down to rise no more
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
Feels like a chain is on our feet
poor gettin poorer all around here
Kids coming regular every year
Plant corn was a wet year
Plant wheat and it turned a corn year
No use talkin any man’s beat with
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat

Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
Who in the devil has got a chance
We cant buy clothes we cant buy meat
Got too much cotton not enough to eat
Can’t help each other what shall we do
I can’t solve the problem so its up to you
Seven cent cotton and forty cent hose
Guess we will have to do with out our clothes
Seven cent cotton and forty cent meat
how in the world can a poor man eat
Mules in the barn and crops laid by
The [cubo] plum empty and the cows gone dry
Well waters low nearly out of sight
Can’t take a bath on a Saturday night
No use talkin any mans beat with
11 cent cotton and 40 c meat

Chicago Exhibition

One afternoon I thought I would go
To see the Great American show
Of which there was such a hallabou
Chicago Exhibition
I left a clerk to mind the store
A thing I had never done before
How long I would be I was not sure
But I thought it would take a week or more
So home i goes to my wife and I says
Business will take me away a few days
Tomorrow morning at six oclock
Im going to London (Landon?) to purchase stock
So call me at five for breakfast dear
And see my collars and shirts appear
Wrap them up so they will not crease
And pack them away in my new valise
When morning came it was pouring rain
I hustled around the cabin in vain
I tried to step on a passenger car
But I slipped and fell with an awful par
My new umbrella was knocked about
And turned completely inside out
But I wouldn’t a cared so much for that
If I hadn’t a tore my new silk hat
I also spoiled a suit of clothes
And tore the skin all of my nose
I fell in the mud on the broad of my back
My valise went flying across the truck
First it opened my collars and shirts
They went flying around the road in the dirt
When I got up I could hardly walk
But I managed to get down as far as the dock
The steamer was almost ready to go
In a minute or two the whistle blowed
I asked my ticket he answered No
Your not in a fit condition
Your a liar I roared as I jumped aboard
For Chicago Exhibition
And when I reached the famous fair
All kinds of people had gathered there
There was dutchmen with their sausage meat
And Italians playing out in the street
It was a dollar a piece for apple pies
They would do dam well for railraod ties
They had no fresh meat so they gave us a dish
Of slathery soup with turnip and fish
And after that great meal was done
I found that my watch and purse was gone
So up I jumped on the table quick
And I told the cashier that he would I thrash
If he didn’t immediately give me my cash
The table slipped and away I flew
And away went all the dishes too
A plate of soup my head went through
At Chicago Exhibition

** (Format leads to questions about this pieces status as song lyric)

I Had But Fifty Cents

I took my girl to a fancy ball,
It was a social hop
But we stayed until the folks went out
And the music it did stop
Then to a restaurant we went
The best one in the street
She said she wasn’t hungry
But this is what she ate
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw
A chicken and a roast
Some sparrow grass and apple sauce
And soft shelled crabs on toast
A big hot stew and crackers too
Her appetite was immence
When she called for pie I thought I’d die
For I had but fifty cents

She said she wasn’t hungry
She didn’t care to eat
Now Ive got money in my clothes
To feed she can’t be beat
She took it in so cosy
She had an awful tank
She said she wasnt thristy
But this is what she drank
A whiskey shin, a glass of gin
It made me shake with fear
Some ginger pop, with rum on top
A schooner than of beer
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail
She aught to have more sense
When she called for more I fell on the floor
For I had but fifty cents

You bet I wasnt hungry
I didn’t care to eat
Expecting every moment
To be kicked out in the street
She said she’d bring her family round
Some day and we’re have fun
Then I gave the man the fifty cents
And this is what he done
He tore my clothes he smashed my nose
He hit me in the jaw
He gave me a prize of a pair of black eyes
And with me swept the floor
He took me where my clothes hung loose
And threw me over a fence
Take my advice don’t try twice
When youve got but fifty cents

Poor Little Joe

While strolling one night through New Yorks gay throng
I met a poor boy who was singing a song
And although he was smiling he wanted for bread
And although he was singing he wished himself dead
I spoke to this poor boy out in the snow
He had no place to shelter him no where to go
No Mother to guide him in the grave she is low
Lost on the cold street was poor little Joe

Cold blew the blast down came the snow
He had no place to shelter him no where to go
No MOther to guide him in the grave she was low
Died on the cold street did poor little Joe

A carriage passed by with a lady inside
I looked on poor Joes face and saw that he cried
He followed the carriage she not even smilied
but fondly caressing her own darling child
I looked on this wail and I thought it was odd
If this poor ragged urchin forgotten by God
And I saw by the firelight that shone in the snow
The pale deathly features of poor little Joe

The lights had gone out and the clock had struck one
Along came a policeman whos duty was done
I could tell by the sound of his duty heavy feet
You’d think he was sinking the grave of the deep
Oh what is this the policeman said
It was poor little Joe on the ground he was dead
With his face turned to heaven all covered with snow
Died on the cold street did poor little Joe

The Little Red Caboose Behind The Train

While riding on the Band 6 from Phillie to N.Y.
And meditating as the train rolled by some happy thoughts came back to me
I’ll mention them to you
The thoughts of when I was a railroad boy
And if you will but listen I will tell you of the fun
That we had in sunshine snow or rain
 We all would get together round the cosy little fire
In the little re caboose behind the train

At night when we’d lay down to sleep upon our humble cots
We would always sing some old familar strain
And the angels they watch over us as we lay fast asleep
In the little red caboose behind the train

I was flagman on the train and did my duty well
And always kept the signals in good trim
Especially the red lights they were always in their place
All polished up and brightened was the tin
We also used to cook our meals and eat aboard the train
When our friends would join us we’d get rasin cane
We always had a pantry and we kept in neat and clearn
In the little red caboose behind the train

The boys all knew when pay day came
They were wathing for the car
And when they saw it coming up the grade
They waited for their wages then all would go to town
But the first thing they would see their board was paid
Then what a time the boys all had drinking lemonade
They would spend their money freely more to gain
but when they’d got a small sized bun you would see them steering off
For the little red caboose behind the train

 

If Brother Jack Were Here

Two drummers they were seated
in a grand hotel one day
While dining they were chatting
In a joker sort of way

There came a pretty waitress
Who brought a tray of food
They spoke to her familiarly
In a manner rather rude

At first she did not notice
Nor make the least reply
But one remark was made to her
Brought teardrops to her eyes

She turned on her tormentors
Her cheeks were blushing red
Approaching as a picture
This is what she said

My mother was a lady
And yours you will allow
And you may have a sister
Who needs protection now
I came to this great city
To find my brother dear
And you would ne’re insult me sir
If brother Jack were here

The two sat there in silence
Their heads hung down in shame
Forgive us miss we meant no harm
Pray tell us what’s your name

She told them and one cried allowed
I know your brother too
For weve been friends for many years
And he often spoke of you

Pray come iwth me when I go back
And if you’ll only wed
I’ll take you to him as my bride
For I love you since you said

Casey Jones

Come all you rounders for I want you to hear
The story of a brave engineer
Casey Jones was the rounders name
On a heavy big eight wheeler of a mighty train

Called called Casey bout half past four
He kissed his wife at the station door
Climbed to the cab with the orders in his hand
He says this is my trip to the holy land

Out of the South Memphis yard on the fly
Heard the firemen say you got a white eye
Well the switchman knew by the engine moan
That the man at the throttle was Casey Jones

The rain was comin down five or six weeks
the railroad track was like the bed of a creek
They slaved her down to a thirty mile gait
And the South bound mail was eight hours late

Fireman says Casey youre runnin too fast
you run that black board the last station you past
Casey says I believe we’ll make it through
For she steams a lot better than I ever know

Casey says firemen, don’t you fret
Keep knocking at the fire door don’t give up yet
Im goign to run her till she leaves the rail
Or Make it on time with the south bound mail

Around the curve and down the dump
two locomotives was abound to jump
Fireman hollered Casey its just ahead
We might jump and make it but we’ll all be dead

Around the curve comes a passenger train
Casey blows the whistle tells the fireman ring the bell
Fireman jumps and says Good-bye
Casey Jones your bound to die

Well Casey Jones was alright
He stuck to his duty day and night
They loved his whistle and his ring number three
And he came into Memphis on the old IC

Fireman goes down the depot track
Begging his noney to take him back
She says Oranges on the table Peaches on the shelf
Youre a goin to get tired sleeping by yourself

Mrs Casy Jones was a sittin on the bed
Telegram comes that Casey is dead
She says children go to bed and hush your cryin
Cause you got another Papa on the Tusco line

Headaches and heartaches and all kinds of pain
They aint apart from a railroad train
Stairs of brave men noble and grand
Belong to the life of a railroad man

Overdue For Death

Im a cowboy bold so Ive been told
Im a good for nothing gent
And drink and smoke Im always broke
Im a ridin fool hell-bent

With my flaming gun I kill for fun
And I swear with every breath
Ive escaped from jail, their on my trail
And Im overdue for death

Oh I dine on rocks and I don’t wear socks
And there is whiskey on my breath
with my gun and knife I welcome strife
Cause Im overdue for death!”

Oh the horse I ride is six feet wide
And my ropes are rattlesnake
And its cockleburs I use for my spurs
As the hell bound trail I take

Oh my foes I pat without a shot
For I blast them with my breath
And Im killin thirst and shootin first
Cause Im overdue for death

Im a blast from hell a shrieken yell
Of hate from the devils den
With snake and fire i roar my ire
Im a scarage to the souls of men

Oh my eyes flash flame so many claim
And there’s poison in my breath
And I laugh with glee at misery
Cause Im overdue for death

Im a wadly wild no angel child
Im a wrangler full of sin
And where other gents end the suspense
Is the place where I begin

Im a roarin bear and I don’t care
How I waste my precious breath
For Im leavin soon oh hear my time
For Im overdue for death

Oh I eat raw meat drink poision neat
And I sleep on broken glass
And its safe to say I have my way
For I won’t take any sass

Ive liven in strife throughout my life
But Im goin to be a dove
And bill and coo the whole day through
Cause Im overdue for [death] love

The Little Mohee

As I was a walking

For pleasure one day
I craved recreation
As the day passed away
I sat me down musing
Alone on the grass
When who should come by me
But a young Indian lass

She came and sat by me
And taking my hand
Said “You look like a stranger
Not one of our hand
But if you will rise sir
And wander with me
I’ll teach you the language
Of the little Mohee

Says I No fair maidens
That never can be
For I have a sweetheart
In my own countree
And I’ll not forsake her
For I know she loves me
And is just as faithful
As the little Mohee

She said when you return sir
To the land that you know
Remember the land
where the coconuts grow
And the last time I saw her
She was out on the sand
As my ship sailed out past her
She waved me her hand
And Now I am landed
On my own native shore
With friend and relations
All around me once more
but of all who surround me
Theres none I can see
Who really compares
With my little Mohee

And the girl I had trusted
Proved untrue to me
so I said I’ll turn backward
Across teh blue sea
I’ll set my course outward
And away I will flee
Spend the rest of my days
With my little Mohee

The Wild And Wreckless Hobo

Im a wild and wreckless hobo I left my happy home
I started out on a westbound trip all by myself alone
If there is no mallice on this trip I’ll surely see some fun
Ten thousand miles away from home and I am but a bum

Standing on a platform sucking a cheap cigar
Waiting for an old freight train to catch an empty car
My pocket book was empty my heart was filled with pain
A thousand miles away from home a waiting for a train

Kind Miss oh kind Miss would you give me a bite
A little piece of pork and bread and a little piece of meat
She put her arms around my neck says I love you as a friend
Im afraid that if I feed you this time you’ll be on the bum again

Kind Miss oh kind Miss what makes you talk so rough
You need not think that Im a hobo because I look so tough
She took me in the kitchen she treated me nice and kind
She asked me in the notion boys of loving all the time

I walked out of the hotel strolling over town
Just then I heard a double headded blow I knew she’s western bound
I walked down the railroad but in a railroad shop
I heard the agent tell a man this train she would not stop

I pulled my cap down o-re myears went strolling down the track
I caught the back of an old freight train and never did look back
I got off at arckinsaw got stuck on an Arckinsaw girl
You bet your life shes out of site for she wore that Arkinsaw curl

I’m going with the hobo’s to a land thats fair and bright
Im going where the hobo’s don’t sleep outdoors at night
Where the hand-offs grow on bushes and the people dont wear socks
And the whiskey comes a flowing through the cravices in the rocks