| Lyrics: | Rye Whisky
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, l 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 l'm hungry,
Red liquor when l'm
dry,
Greenbacks when I'm hard up,
And religion when I die.
They say l drink
whisky,
My money's my own;
All them that don't like me,
Can leave me
alone.
Sometimes l drink whisky,
Sometimes l drink rum,
Sometimes l 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 l 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
l 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 l know whar's a henhouse,
De turkey he charve;
An,
if ol' Massa don' kill me
l 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.
@drink
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