GINGER BAY OUTING
Hush your mouth, don’t say a word,
Let me tell the good news I heard.
There’s going to be an outing soon
Down where folks spend their honeymoon.
Its given by the Dark Town club,
And they serve chicken by the tub;
Another thing their music’s grand,
Drums, piano, and old tin pans,
Get your ticket and don’t be late,
Be at the landing prompt at eight.
Listen! listen! what’s all that noise
Everybody’s going to Ginger Bay.
There’s old Raz Jones with his slide trombone
And you can hear him play it for miles away.
Come on boy we’ll have some time,
There’ll be lots of swell dancing,
And they’ll serve you wine,
And if the boat begins to rock
Keep right on dancing, if you lose your frock,
Be careful what you do
When you get a drink or two.
And when the boat pulls into land
Take your partner by the hand
And waltz her off at Ginger Bay.
MY WIFE
My wife, oh! my wife,
Was taught that game of cooking
Some time early in her life.
Its just as easy
For her to cook a good meal
As it is for you to ride
In an automobile.
It seems that it’s her pride
To fix good eats,
Such as roast pork and candied sweet tatoes,
And apple pies, she can’t be beat.
I can be so mad when I walk in,
Lips all shot out,
Hanging down on my chin,
But the essence of that food
Says why be thou so rude.
Then henceforth and forever
May thy grin.
If you can keep from smiling
When my wife makes apple pies,
That’s more than I can do.
She only makes that kind
That melts on the tongue
And passes by the thorax so easy,
Till it makes the pallet hum.
Telling the epiglottis
That it don’t have to move
Cause in this pie am plenty lard
And sure am short and smooth.
My Adam’s apple never works
When I go to swallow;
All the muscles in my neck
Never touch my collar.
Then it reaches the bottom of my heart
And sounds the tune of joy
And kills that word O’ Hunger
When I’m penniless so often annoys.
Now if you can keep from smiling
When my wife makes apple pies
That’s more than I can do.
E’ER JANUWAH DE 2
E’er sense I’s been bon things fo me goes powfull wrong
E’er Januwah de 2.
I sells my con and lose a farm
E’er Januwah de 2.
Good old liggon I don’t abuse but from me, it seems to oose
E’er Januwah de 2.
Now to drink is ganst my will, but luck fo me pulls don de hill
E’er Januwah de 2.
I puts my savins in my trunks, but things fo me just goes caflunk
E’er Januwah de 2.
An I married a dozen wives but dey seems to lose dey lives
E’er Januwah de 2.
Den ever year I have de flu and seems to me I’ll break in tu
Leaven my bons dah to click
Wid dem awful rhumaticks
E’er Januwah de 2.
De worsted sorrow I ebber had
Is when mah swetark treats me bad
E’er Januwah de 2.
FATE AND TIME
Fate taken away my world of goal
Time sees that I grow old,
Just these two words, which is time and fate,
Where art thou love, that turned to hate?