Ooh, pretty little girl, who lies at Jane
By lies, that pretty little girl,
she died on the train
Well, sir, here's an old song
called A Possum Up in the Cemetery
You know,
there's 40 ,000 different versions
of this old country song
I guess maybe you might say
that up in Kentucky
they had a different way of
singing it over and over and holler
But in my particular holler,
here's sort of the way they sung about
the possum up in the simmon tree.
Possum up in the simmon tree,
raccoon on the ground,
raccoon said you son of a gun,
shake them simmons down,
possum begin to shake
and the simmons begin to fall,
raccoon said you son of a gun,
I didn't want them all, whoo,
Liza's pretty little girl, whoopie Liza Jane,
My Liza's a pretty little girl,
she died on the train
Woo, pretty little girl, Liza Jane
My Liza's a pretty little girl,
she died on the train
Oh folks down in Georgia
raising sugarcane
Making the barrel of lasses
to sweeten little Liza Jane
Her nose is like a cherry
and her chair is like a rose
I love my pretty little gal goodness
gracious
She's got a
head like a coffee pot,
nose like a spout,
and a mouth like an old fireplace
the ashes all raked out