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Joe Bowers My name it is Joe Bowers; I have a brother Ike. I came from old Missoura, All the way from Pike. I used to know a girl there; Her name was Sally Black. I asked her if she'd marry me; She said it was a whack. She said to me, "Joe Bowers. Before we hitch for life, You'd better get a little home To take your little wife.' ' "Oh Sally, dearest Sally, Oh Sally, for your sake. I'll go to California And try and raise a stake." When I got in that country I didn't have a red; I had such wolfish feelings I wished myself most dead. But the thughts of my dear Sally Soon made those feelings git, And whispered hope to Bowers, I wish I had them yet. At last a letter, Enough to make me swear, That Sally married a butcher, And the butcher had red hair. Before I got through reading, At length the letter said: Sally had a baby, And the baby's head was red. From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellan Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, Virginia, 1958 DT #381 Laws B14 RG
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