The Blues

	The large collection gathered in early 1926 by Hubert Canfield, of upper New York State, contains four different songs under such titles as "Nigger Blues" and "Chicago Blues." 
Chicago Blues
Lonesome ManŻ  All were assumedly sent to Canfield by white correspondents, suggesting that there was considerable musical interaction between the races.  Still, these have the feel -- if one can use such an "unscientific" term -- of being songs of black origin perhaps, but sung by whites.

[ A ]

Ashes to ashes, 
And dust to dust,
If it wasn't for our assholes
Our bellies would bust.

Belly to belly,
With my asshole to the sun,
Gotta swing a mean prick
To make my baby come.

I pushed her back
Against the wall,
And her coozie flew open
Like a red parasol.

Takes a barrel of water
To make an engine run,
Takes a baby elephant
To make my sweety come.

A nickle's worth of cold cream,
A dime's worth of lard,
Vaseline your coozie
Till my cock gets hard.

Was belly to belly
When I jumped and I farted,
And that's how the trouble
All got started.

Filled her full of gizm,
Right up to her chin,
First we had triplets
And now we got twins.

If I had a woman
And she wouldn't fuck,
I'd knock out her eyeteeth
And make her suck.

Down in the barnyard
Saw a cow eating hay.
Saw the cow's sweet daddy
And I went away.

You got the jelly
An' I got the roll.
Let's put 'em together
And make sweet jelly-roll.

[ B ]

There's two kinds of people
I can't understand.
That's the cock-suckin' woman
And the cunt-lapping man.

If my body's a church
And my pecker's the steeple,
I'll hang by my balls 
To accomodate the people.

Mama runs a whorehouse.
Papa tends the door.
Little borther Willie
Licks the gizm off the floor.

Mother's on the poor farm.
Father's in the jail.
Brother runs a cathouse
And sister peddles tail.

Mother takes in washing.
Papa drives a hack.
Brother sells bootleg
And baby pulls his jack.

Mother's in the hospital.
Father's in the jail.
Sister's in Boston
Where she has it for sale.

There's snakes on the mountain,
And eels in the sea,
But it was a red-headed woman
Made a wreck out of me.

[ C ]

Oh, I ain't the lieutenant,
Nor the lieutenant's son,
But I'll handle your privates
Till the lieutenant comes.

Oh, I'm not the iceman
Nor the iceman's son,
But I'll fill up your box
Till the iceman comes.

Oh, I ain't the admiral
Nor the admiral's son,
But I can give you semen
Till the admiral comes.

I ain't no jockey,
Nor a jockey's son,
But I'll do your easy riding
Till the jockey comes.

Oh, I ain't a Mormon,
Nor a Mormon's son,
But when it comes to booty,
I'm a second Brigham Young.

	This "C" text was appended to the "B" text above.  The editor has broken it out as a separate song here.