I`ll eat when I`m hungry,
I`ll drink when l`m dry,
If the hard times don`t kill me,
I`ll lay down and die.
Rye whisky, rye whisky,
Rye whisky, I cry,
If you don`t give me rye whisky,
I surely will die.
I`ll tune up my fiddle,
And I`ll rosin my bow,
I`ll make myself welcome,
Wherever I go.
Beefsteak when I`m hungry,
Red liquor when I`m dry,
Greenbacks when I`m hard up,
And religion when I die.
They say I drink whisky,
My money`s my own;
All them that don`t like me,
Can leave me alone.
Sometimes I drink whisky,
Sometimes I drink rum,
Sometimes I drink brandy,
At other times none.
But if I get boozy,
My whisky`s my own,
And them that don`t like me,
Can leave me alone.
Jack o` diamonds, jack o` diamonds,
I know you of old,
You`ve robbed my poor pockets
Of silver and gold.
Oh, whisky, you villain,
You`ve been my downfall,
You`ve kicked me, you`ve cuffed me,
But I love you for all.
If the ocean was whisky,
And I was a duck,
I`d dive to the bottom
To get one sweet suck.
But the ocean ain`t whisky
And I ain`t a duck,
So we`ll round up the cattle
And then we`ll get drunk.
My foot`s in my stirrup,
My bridle`s in my hand,
l`m leaving sweet Lillie,
The fairest in the land.
Her parents don`t like me,
They say l`m too poor;
They say I`m unworthy
To enter her door.
Sweet milk when l`m hungry,
Rye whisky when l`m dry,
If a tree don`t fall on me,
I`ll live till I die.
I`ll buy my own whisky,
I`ll make my own stew,
If I get drunk, madam,
It`s nothing to you.
I`ll drink my own whisky,
I`ll drink my own wine,
Some ten thousand bottles
I`ve killed in my time.
I`ve no wife to quarrel
No babies to bawl;
The best way of living
Is no wife at all.
Way up on Clinch Mountain
I wander alone,
l`m as drunk as the devil,
Oh, let me alone.
You may boast of your knowledge
An` brag of your sense,
`Twill all be forgotten
A hundred years hence.
(Negro Variant)
In my little log cabin,
Ever since I been born,
Dere ain`t been no nothin`
`Cept dat hard salt, parched corn.
But I know whar`s a henhouse,
De turkey he charve;
An, if ol` Massa don` kill me
I cain`t never starve.
(Variant chorus)
Rye whisky, rye whisky,
You`re no friend to me;
You killed my poor daddy,
Goddamn you, try me.
From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
Note: One of the more exhaustive texts
