Hungry Hash House



I'm a boarder and I dwell in that second-rate hotel

If I stay here long, I think I'll go insane;

For I lay here on my bunk and I cannot reach my trunk

And the board I would break a millionaire.



Oh they feed on chicken pie, if you eat it you will die

The meat you cannot cut it with a sword;

Oh, there's undertakers hangin' 'round, for there's good work to be found

In that all-go-hungry hash house where I board.



Oh, they carried me upstairs one night, you would need a fork and knife

It was something they had never done before;

Oh, the fleas all held me down while the cheesecake scarrped around

In that all-go-hungry hash house where I board.



Oh, the beefsteak it was rare and the butter had red hair

And the baby had its feet both in the stew;

Oh, the eggs you dared not touch, if you kicked one it would hatch

In that all-go-hungry hash house where I go.



Well, she promised she would meet me when the clock struck seventeen

At the stock-yards just five miles outside of town;

Where there's pig's feet and pig's ears, and tough old Texas steers

Sell for sirloin steak at nineteen cents a pound.



She's my darling, she's my daisy. She's hump-backed and she's crazy,

She's knock-kneed, she's bow-legged and she's lame;

And though they say her breath is sweet, I would rather smell her feet

She' my freckle-faced consumptive Mary Jane.



Recorded by Charlie Poole, New Lost City Ramblers

Also see SODSHANT

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