Johnson had an old brain, his name was Simon Slick
It wore on his eyes, the back of his ears, and how that fool would kick
He took him down to the foot of the hill to try him out one day
He kicked and he pawed him right all around, that's what that fool would say, he would say
Hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da
Down the trail he'd go

He packed that mule up to a bluff to kick a tunnel through
People gathered all around to see what a mule could do
He kicked it through in 24 hours and never out of breath
He'd run his hind legs down his throat and kick himself to death
He would say

Hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da
Down the trail he'd go

Now this is the way a mule sounds early in the morning
You take him down to the lane and turn him loose
You go down the trail in slow-mo, something sort of like this

Hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da, hey-oh, oh-la-da