Down in Bowling Green such a sight was never seen, The earth all stood in a quiver; We run ’em twelve miles, and the Devil’s laid in piles, Besides what we drowned in the river. 
CHORUS: Fol de rol de day, fol de rol de day, The Black Horse Calvary a-coming; You needn’t mind the weather, we’ll get damned together, And spree around the happy land of Caanan. 
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