THE OLD GREY MULE

Johnson had an old gray mule, an old gray mule had he,
He loved that mule and the mule loved him,
With all its mulish glee,
Now Johnson knew, when the rooster crew,
That the dawn was about to break,
So he rubbed that mule, with the foot of a stool,
As he combed him down with a rake,
And the mule went, "Haw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw"
As he combed him down with a rake.

He fed this mule on old shirttails, and hunks of yaller clay,
On old tin cans and circus bills,
Them was his oats and hay,
This mule could chaw, with an iron jaw,
On a pair of dirty socks,
He could wink his eye, like a handsome guy,
With his mouth chuck full of rocks,
And the mule went "Haw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw!, Heehaw!
As he combed him down with a rake.

AS HE COMBED HIM DOWN WITH A RAKE