All Go Hungry Hash House Ernest Stoneman -- Edison 
There’s a hotel in the city As we climb the golden stairs, And they serve the hash upon the second floor. There’s a graveyard in the cellar, Doctor’s office in the parlor, And the undertaker keeps his shop next door. 
"Touch-me-not" was on the teacups, Skeleton and crossbones on the plates, "Carve me right" is on turkey you could spell. Oh, the biscuits they are named, And I’m going to have them framed At that all-go-hungry hash house where I dwell. 
Oh, the doughnuts, they are wooden, And we have limburger puddin’; We kneel in prayer before we go to grub. If you chance to get a breeze Of that ham, baloney or cheese, You’d have swore somebody’d hit you with a club. 
That hotel where I stay, It is turning my hair grey, For the landlord is always full of beer. Oh, the beds the bugs have rented, And the air was sweetly scented By an old-fashioned tanyard in the rear. 
Oh the sausage, they are marked, If you touch them, they will bark; They are relics sent from Bingen-on-the-Rhine. All the boarders have the croup, Caused from drinking frozen soup At that all-go-hungry hash house where I dine. 
They have India-rubber pickles, Exercises for the cripples, And a dinner bell and gong they can’t afford. When they open up the gate We come skipping on roller skates At that all-go-hungry hash house where I board. 
There’s a woman called the Duchess, Brings the coffee in on crutches, And the cake looks like a sponge that’s petrified. Oh, the pies are old and grey, They were tackled by a jay 
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Who went right out and committed suicide. 
The molasses are made of paint, If you smell them you will faint; They were yellow and dished up in a gourd. Oh the eggs are made to mash, If you touch them, they will hatch, At that all-go-hungry hash house where I board. 
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