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Hungry Hash House I'm a boarder and I dwell in that second-rate hotel If I stay here long, I think I'll go insane; For I lay here on my bunk and I cannot reach my trunk And the board I would break a millionaire. Oh they feed on chicken pie, if you eat it you will die The meat you cannot cut it with a sword; Oh, there's undertakers hangin' 'round, for there's good work to be found In that all-go-hungry hash house where I board. Oh, they carried me upstairs one night, you would need a fork and knife It was something they had never done before; Oh, the fleas all held me down while the cheesecake scarrped around In that all-go-hungry hash house where I board. Oh, the beefsteak it was rare and the butter had red hair And the baby had its feet both in the stew; Oh, the eggs you dared not touch, if you kicked one it would hatch In that all-go-hungry hash house where I go. Well, she promised she would meet me when the clock struck seventeen At the stock-yards just five miles outside of town; Where there's pig's feet and pig's ears, and tough old Texas steers Sell for sirloin steak at nineteen cents a pound. She's my darling, she's my daisy. She's hump-backed and she's crazy, She's knock-kneed, she's bow-legged and she's lame; And though they say her breath is sweet, I would rather smell her feet She' my freckle-faced consumptive Mary Jane. Recorded by Charlie Poole, New Lost City Ramblers Also see Little Old Sod Shanty on My Claim RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!