Oh, don’t you remember Lame Sally, John Jones,
Lame Sally whose nose was so brown,
Who look’d like a clam if you gave her a smile,
And went into fits at your frown.
In the old goose pond in the orchard, John Jones,
Where the goslins are learning to swim,
Lame Sally went fishing one wet, windy day,
And, by a mistake, fell in.
Under old Simmon’s brush fence, John Jones,
That winds at the foot of the hill,