Thursday, November 10, 2016

Hop along, Peter,

Old Uncle Peter, he got tight,

Started up to heaven on a stormy night.

The road being rough and him not well,

He lost his way and he went... to...

     Hop along, Peter, where you going?

     Hop along, Peter, where you going?

     Hop along, Peter, won't you bear in mind

      I ain 't comin' back till the gooseberry time.

Old mother Hubbard and her dog were Dutch,

A bow-legged rooster and he hobbled on a crutch.

Hen chewed tobacco and the duck drank wine;

The goose played the fiddle on the pumpkin vine.

Down in the barnyard playing seven-up,

The old tom cat and the little yellow pup,

The old mother Hubbard, she's a-pickin' out the fleas,

Rooster in the cream jar up to his knees.

I've got a sweet gal in this here town,

If she weighs an ounce, she weighs seven hundred pounds,

Every time my sweet gal turns once around,

The heel of her shoe makes a hole in the ground.

No comments: