way down South where the cocks do crow,
Way down in Florida
Them gals all dance to the old banjo.
And we'll roll the woodpile down
Chorus:
Rollin! Rollin! Rollin the whole world round,
That brown gal of mine's on the Georgia line!
And we'll roll the woodpile down!
When I was a young man in my prime,
I danced with the brown gals two at a time.
We'll roll him high and we'll roll him low,
We'll hoist him up anyway we'll go.
Oh - roust and bust her is the cry,
A sailor's wage is never high.
My dear old mother wrote to me:
"Tom, my son, come home from sea."
She sent me money she sent me clothes,
I drank the money and I pawned the clothes.
One more pull and that'll do,
For we're the boys to kick her through.
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