JOE BOWERS



My name it is Joe Bowers;

I have a brother Ike.

I came from old Missoura,

All the way from Pike.



I used to know a girl there;

Her name was Sally Black.

I asked her if she'd marry me;

She said it was a whack.



She said to me, "Joe Bowers.

Before we hitch for life,

You'd better get a little home

To take your little wife.' '



"Oh Sally, dearest Sally,

Oh Sally, for your sake.

I'll go to California

And try and raise a stake."



When I got in that country

I didn't have a red;

I had such wolfish feelings

I wished myself most dead.



But the thughts of my dear Sally

Soon made those feelings git,

And whispered hope to Bowers,

I wish I had them yet.



At last a letter,

Enough to make me swear,

That Sally married a butcher,

And the butcher had red hair.



Before I got through reading,

At length the letter said:

Sally had a baby,

And the baby's head was red.



From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellan

Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, Virginia, 1958

@parting @pioneer @infidelity

filename[ JOBOWERS

play.exe JOBOWERS

RG

===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY