Lay down the shovel and the hoe,
Hang up the fiddle and the bow;
For no more work for poor old Ned,
He’s gone where the good darkies go.
His fingers were long, like the cane in the brake,
And he had no eyes for to see;
He had no teeth for to eat de hoe cake,
So he had to let the hoe cake be.
Lay down, &c.
One cold frosty morning old Ned died,