Butler 4

The Big Rock Candy Mountains

On a summer day in the month of May,
A burly little bum come a-hikin',
He was tavelin' down the lonesome road,
A-lookin' for his likin'
He was headed for a land that's far away,
'I'll see you all, this comin' fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mounains.'

In The Big rock Candy Mountians
You never change your socks,
And the little streams of alkyhol
Come a-tricklin' down the rocks.
Where the shacks all have to tip their hats,
And the railroad bulls are blind,

There's a lake of stew, and whiskey, too,
And you can paddle all around'em in your big canoe,
In the Big Rock Candy Mountians

Chorus
O. . . The. . . buzzin' of the bees
In the cigarette trees,
Round the sodawater fountains,
Near the Lemonade springs,
Where the whangdoodle sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
There's a land that's fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes,
And you sleep out every night.
Where the box cars are all empty
And the sun shines every day,
O I'm bound to go, where there ain't no snow,
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow,
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
The jails are made of tin,
And you can bust right out again
As soon as they put you in.
The farmer's trees are full of fruit,
The barns are full of hay,
I'm goin' to stay where you sleep all day,
Where they boiled in oil the inventor of toil,
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

-Anonymous C.1885