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lyrics

Hop along, Peter, where you going?
Hop along, Peter, where you going?
Hop along, Peter, won't you bear in mind
I ain 't comin' back till the gooseberry time.

Old Uncle Peter, he got tight,
Started up to heaven on a stormy night.
The road being rough and him not well,
He lost his way and he went... to...

Old mother Hubbard and her dog were Dutch,
She had a bow-legged rooster and a crutch.
The hen chewed tobacco and the rooster drank wine;
The goose played the fiddle on the pumpkin vine.

Down in the barnyard playing seven-up,
The old tom cat and the little yellow pup,
The old mother Hubbard, she's a-pickin' out the fleas,
Rooster in the cream jar up to his knees.

I've got a sweet gal in this here town,
If she weighs an ounce she weighs four hundred pounds,
Every time my gal turns once round,
The heel of her shoe makes a hole in the ground.

credits

from The Bag Lovers Sessions, released December 31, 2007

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Mail Myself To Thoreau Easthampton, Massachusetts

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