�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��