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Plantation Pieces, Camp Meeting Songs |
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THE MULE
I sing in simple language—
The virtues of a beast, On whom the praises languish
And on whom the idyls cease; A paragon of patience
The best you ever saw, He may not be a beauty—
But he's honest to the core. |
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Just hitch him to a mountain—
And tap him with the whip, And you'll see that mountain rolling
And you'll see that mountain slip; And all he wants is fodder
And a bedding in the straw, And he may not be a beauty—
But he's honest to the core. |
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Up the hill, and down the hill
He'll amble with his load, But you must urge him gently
And don't use too much the goad; And if he stoops to folly—
What is his balking for? But a protest to his master
That he's honest to the core. |
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