There was an old man, they called him Uncle Ned He lived long, long ago He had no wool on the top of his head In the place where the wool oughta grow 
Chorus Lay down the shovel and the hoe Hang up the fiddle and the bow There’s no more work for poor old Ned He’s gone where the good folks go 
His fingers were long like the cane in the brake And he had no eyes for to see He had no teeth for to eat the hoe cakes So he had to let the hoe cakes be 
One cold frosty morning, poor Uncle Ned died Master’s tears ran down like rain ’Cause he knew when poor Ned was under the ground He’d never see his like again 
file from: www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
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