Old Joe Clark

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Old Joe Clark  

Old Joe Clark was a preacher sod
He preached all o'er the plain
Highest text he ever took was high low jack, the game

Chorus:

Fare thee well, old Joe Clark
Fare thee well, I'm gone
Fare thee well, old Joe Clark
Time you're gettin' on.

I wish I was an apple a-hangin' on a tree
Every time a true love passed, she'd take a bite of me.

I wish I had a bushel, I wish I had a peck
I wish I had a pretty gal with her arms around my neck.

I wish I was a cherry branch a-hangin' in the town
Every time a true love passed, I'd shake her cherry down.

Higher up on the cherry tree sweeter grows the cherry
The more you hug and kiss the girls the more they want to marry.

I went down to old Joe's house, old Joe wasn't home
Jumped in bed with old Joe's wife, drank her tuck and comb.

When I was a litle boy, I liked to play with knives
Now that I'm a grown-up man, it's other fellas' wives.

She climbed up the apple tree, I climbed up the gum
I never seen a pretty gal but what I loved her some.


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