The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #45184   Message #666700
Posted By: Les B
11-Mar-02 - 12:20 AM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: All Go Hungry Hash House (Dave Macon)
Subject: Lyr Add: ALL GO HUNGRY HASH HOUSE (Dave Macon)
I cannot make out some of the words in this Uncle Dave Macon classic - can anyone fill in where the "???" are?
(Or any other errors that you may see!)

ALL GO HUNGRY HASH HOUSE
Uncle Dave Macon and his Fruit Jar Drinkers with Sam McKee

Banjo riff - Spoken: Hello folks, I'm in New York and from the country, but you can't tell me, don't you tell me, roastin' ears ain't corn.

There's a hotel in the city as we climb the golden stairs
(There's a hotel down the street where the tramps and hoboes meet - Coffer Bros.)
And they serve the hash up on the second floor
There's a graveyard in the cellar, Doctor's office in the parlour
And the undertaker keeps his shop next door

"Touch Me Not" is on the teacups; skeleton cross bones on the plates
???????????????????????????????????????????????????
Oh the biscuits they are named, and I'm going to have them framed
At that all go hungry hash house where I dwell

Oh the donuts they are wooden and we have Limburger puddin'
We kneel in prayer before we go to grub
If you chance to get a breeze of that Ambelonious cheese
You'd have swore somebody'd hit you with a club

That hotel where I stay, it is turning my hair gray
And the landlord is always full of beer
Oh the bedbugs must have rented, and the air was sweetly scented
By an old-fashioned pig pen in the rear

Oh the sausages they are marked, if you touch them they will bark
It's a relic sent from "Bingen on the Rhine.”
All the borders have the croup caught from drinking frozen soup
At that all go hungry hash house where I dine

They have India rubber pickles, exercises ?????????
And a dinner bell and gong they can't afford
When they open up the gates, we'll come skippin' on roller skates
At that all go hungry hash house where I board

There's a woman called the Duchess, brings the coffee in on crutches
And the cake looks like a sponge that petrified
Oh the pies are old and gray; they were tackled by a jay
Who went right out and committed suicide

Oh the molasses are made of paint, if you smell them you will faint
They are yellow, and dished up in a gourd
Oh the eggs are made to match, if you touch them they will hatch
At that all go hungry hash house where I board.

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 13-Mar-02.