Classic Poem

1

Way down South in the land of cotton,
I wrote this song and wrote it rotten;
I did, I didn't — you don't believe me,
The reason why I cannot sing,
I have no chestnuts for to spring,
O, me! Did we? She don't. Why does she?
I just come back from Mobile, I did, I didn't!
I just come back from Mobile,
And I don't care to go anywhere —
I do, I don't. Oh, Lizzie sells the peanuts.

2

I used to live down on a farm,
And one bright night, when the day was warm,
I swiped some cheese from off the table,
The farmer chased me, but the night was damp,
And the farmer got such an awful cramp
In his necktie, in his feet, in his eye, oh, Heinie!
I just come back from Cuba! Hurrah! Hurree!
I just come back from Cuba,
And I don't know which way to go —
I do, I don't, I go out bicycle walking.

3

I like to sit down by the brook,
Take a fishing line and hook,
And fish for clams, for worms and sausages;
And when I see a sign so near
That says: " No fishing goes on here. "
I hunt for fleas, for flies and lobsters,
I am an Irish hunter, I am, I ain't,
I am an Irish hunter;
I hunt for beer, but not for deer,
I do, I don't. Now can you know the difference?

4

I once went up in a big balloon
To get some cheese from off the moon;
But the moon was full and I was fuller.
I don't forget I took a drop,
I fell kerflop in a barber shop,
And got a shave — a shampoo — that's all.
I'd like to see you after the show — I will — I won't.
I'd like to know which way to go;
For I can't know the wrong direction —
I do. I don't. She was bred in old Kentucky