Dixey's Land. No. 2

J. H. JOHNSON, SONG PURBLISHER, CARD & JOBPRINTER No, 7 North Tenth St., above Market, PHILADELPHIA.

Dixey’s Land. No.2.

I wish I was in the land of cotton,
‘Cimmon seed an’ sandy bottom—

In Dixie’s Land whar I was born in.
Early on one frosty mornin’,

Den I whish I was in Dixie,
Hooray—Hooray!
In Dixie’s Land—we’ll took our stand,
To lib and die in Dixie,
Away—away—away down south in Dixie.

Old missus marry Will-de-weaber,
William was a gay a deceaber,

When he put his arms around’er
He look as fierce as a forty pounder,

His face was sharp like a butcher’s cleaber,
But that did’nt seem to greab’er;

Will ran away—missus took a decline oh,
Her face was de color ob bacon-rhine, oh,

While missus libbed, she libbed in clober
When she died, she died all ober:

How could she act such a foolish part,
As to marry a man that would break her heart,

Here’s a health to the next old missus,
And all de gals dat want to kiss us;

Now if you want to dribe ‘way sorrow,
Come an’ hear this to-morrow,

Sugar in de gourd, an’ stonny batter,
De white’s grow fat, an’ de niggar’s fatter,

Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble,
To Dixie’s Land I’m bound to trabble,

Item Information help

blog comments powered by Disqus