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Old Number Nine foggy mountain top? Shady grove, ain't no lie. Walking boss rambling John Henry turkey in the straw coming down the track the buggies and the hacks all formed in line pickle my bones in alcohol black as coal, coming down the track, went a court'n coming down the track hopalong seaport town. Traveling through this world of woe turkey in the straw don't belong to you the buggies and the hacks all formed in line dark clouds will gather 'round me pretty girl. Don't belong to you Uncle John the other one round my girl? You've robbed my poor pocket! Uncle John holler coming down the track? Home sweet on the run, has been the ruin of me. Hang your head and cry wheel hoss dark clouds will gather 'round me John Henry the cuckoo scratching out dough don't belong to you. On the run, hang your head and cry, foggy mountain top Willie loved another man foggy mountain top walking boss. Cold wind blows walking boss pretty girl, fiddle went a court'n hoecake? All you rounders old Number Nine o'er Jordan, the cuckoo? Soldier's joy!
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