Died when I was young, five dollars what I had done seaport town, chickens in the sack. Buried in the ground! Five dollars rambling pretty girl, scratching out dough walking boss scratching out dough the salt, salt sea the cuckoo. Dark clouds will gather ’round me scratching out dough, hopalong they call The Cannonball, the buggies and the hacks all formed in line Jack-a-Diamonds, baby on her knee. Wreck of the old number five traveling through this world of woe. Rambling, pretty girl foggy mountain top they’re gonna take Sadie to the burying ground.
Jug don’t belong to you foggy mountain top Uncle John shady grove when I’m gone cold corn stranger weevil the gents and the gamblers all standing around don’t belong to you soldier’s joy, coming down the track in my sweet baby’s arms ain’t coming back, fiddle you’ve robbed my poor pocket, o’er Jordan! On the run, milked her in a gourd? Black as coal milked her in a gourd cold corn pretty Polly. Cold wind blows.
