Archive for the ‘rain’ Tag

Oh Dem Golden Slippers

Oh my golden slippers am laid away
Cause I don’t spect to wear em till my weddin day
And my long tail’d coat dat I loved so well
I will wear up in the chariot in de morn
And my long white robe dat I bought last June
Ise gwine to get chang’d Case it fits too soon
And the ole gray hoss dat I used to drive
I will hitch him to the chariot in de morn

Oh dem golden slippers
Oh dem golden slippers
Golden slippers ise gwine to wear
Because they look so neat
Oh dem golden slippers
Oh dem golden slippers
Golden slippers ise gwine to wear
To walk the golden street

Oh my ole banjo hangs on de wall
Cause it ain’t been tuned since away last fall
But de darks all say we will have a good time
When we ride up in de chairot in the morn
And Brother Ben and sister Luce
Dey will telegraph to Uncle Bacco Juice
What a great camp meeting der will be dat day
When we ride up in de chariot in de morn

So its good-by children I will have to go
Wher der rain don’t fall or de wind don’t blow
And yer winter coat why ye will not need
When you ride up in de chariot in de morn
But dem slippers must be nice and clean
And yer age must be just sweet sixteen
And yer white [bed] gloves yer will have to wear
When you ride up in de chariot in de morn

The Lane County Bachelor

My name is Frank Bale an old bachelor I am
I’m keeping old batch on an elegant plan
You’ll find me out West in the county of Lane
Starving to death on a Government claim

My house it is build of the national sail
The walls are erected according to Hayle
The roof has no leak but is level and plain
And I always get wet when it happens to rain

But Hurrah! for Lane County teh land of the free
Home of the grasshopper bed bug and flee
I’ll sing loud her praises and boast of her fame
While starving to death on a Government claim

How happy am I when I crawl into bed
And a rattlesnake rattles his tail at my head
And the gay little centipide foil of all fear
Crawls over my pillow and into my ear

And the nice little building so cheerful and bright
Keeps me up scratching full half of the night
And the gay little flee with toes sharp as a tack
Plays why don’t you catch me all over my back

But Hurrah for Lane County the land of the West
Where the farmers and ranchers are always at rest
Where youve nothing to do but sweetly remain
And starve like a man on your government claim