Sometimes I fly the old gray mare, sometimes I fly old muley oar, as soon as I get this cotton crop out, I'm going home to Julie.
Woe back Buck G by the lamb, who made the back band Cunningham, when I was a skinny boy Jimmy Ryan, carving my initials on a mule's behind.
My gal won't wear no high button shoes, feeds to big fur gators though, all she's fit for is a pinch of snuff and a yellow yam potato.
Partied and planted no beans or greens, had bad luck with the taters though, cotton crop it didn't come out, but a great column of tomatoes.
Woe back Buck G by the lamb, who made the back band Cunningham, when I was a skinny boy Jimmy Ryan, carving my initials on a mule's behind.
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty years ago, took my gal to the party oar, all dressed up in calico, well I wouldn't let her dance but I set her sight.
Woe back Buck G by the lamb, who made the back band Cunningham, when I was a skinny boy Jimmy Ryan, carving my initials on a mule's behind.
Takes two mules to pull a load, takes four mules to pull a double load, take me back to Georgia land and I won't be in no trouble.
Woe back Buck G by the lamb, who made the back band Cunningham, when I was a skinny boy Jimmy Ryan, carving my initials on a mule's behind.
Sometimes I fly the old gray mare, sometimes I fly old muley oar, as soon as I get this cotton crop I'm going home to Julia oar.
Righty ho, righty ho, if you got your wagon loaded let me see her go.