I used to have an old grey horse, He weighed ten thousand pounds, Every tooth he had in his head, Was eighteen inches around. 
Chorus: I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to Lynchburg town, To carry my tobacco down. 
That horse he had a holler tooth, He could eat ten bushels of corn, Ev’ry time he opened his mouth, Ten bushels and a half were gone. 
Chorus: I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to Lynchburg town, To carry my tobacco down. 
I had a yaller gal, I brought her from the south, All the fault I had with her, She had too big a mouth. 
Chorus: I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to Lynchburg town, To carry my tobacco down. 
I took her down to the blacksmith shop, To get her mouth made small, She opened her mouth to get a breath, And swallowed blacksmith, shop and all. 
Chorus: I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to Lynchburg town, To carry my tobacco down. 
I’m a-goin’ to get me some sticks and sand, To make my chimney higher, To keep that dog-goned old tom cat, From puttin’ out my fire. 
Chorus: I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to town, I’m a-goin’ down to Lynchburg town, To carry my tobacco down. 
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