BORN IN CINCINNATI (To the tune of The Wearin' o' The Green) I was born in Cincinnati Up in Iceland, in the South And that's the very reason why My voice is in my mouth. 'Twas a hot and frosty morning, Yes, quite windy, I believe, And the great big trees were making boughs For they were going to leave. And I went to sleep in a river Just because it had a bed And I took a sheet of water Just to cover up my head. If a rooster could but carry a hod, A hen would lay a brick. There are cripples dying nowadays Because they cannot kick. And the veg'tables were racing To win the Butter Cup, And the cabbage got so far a-head The tomatoes couldn't ketchup. And the pigs was making pigsties And the grass was making hay, And the bumblebees was making bum . . . . For Ta-ra-bum-de-ay! Collected in Minnesota in the late 40s, from an old (then about 70) Irishman named Frank McGovern. DRO
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