Now I’ll tell all you, boys, what you’d better stop a doing,
Dat is a drinking lager beer, and give up tobacco chewing;
Now I’ll tell all you boys, what you’d better stop a doing,
Dat is a drinking lager beer, and give up tobacco chewing.
Jog along.
De shanghai coats and de stub-toed boots,
Tight-legg’d pants, and all such fancy suits,
Big Byron collars and mustaches to de eye,
Dat’s de way to sport, boys--root hog or die.
Now I’ll tell you all, &c.
Now I’ll tell you, one and all, dat I feel mighty proud,
When I have my banjo wid me, and gets into a crowd,
Dey do make a circle round me, and out dey do cry,
For to sing dis good old song, boys--root hog or die.
Now I’ll tell you all, &c.
You may talk about your fiddles and de old tambo,
But they cannot be compared with de old banjo,
On it I’ll end my song, and I’m not ashamed to deny
The title that I give it, boys, was--root hog or die.
Now I’ll tell you all, &c.