Old Joe Clark's a fine old man,
Tell you the reason why,
He keeps good likker 'round his house,
Good old Rock and Rye.

Chorus:
 Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
 Fare ye well, I say.
 Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark,
 I'm a goin' away.

Old Joe Clark, the preacher's son,
Preached all over the plain,
The only text he ever knew
Was "High, low, jack and the game."

Old Joe Clark had a mule,
His name was Morgan Brown,
And every tooth in that mule's head
Was sixteen inches around.

Old Joe Clark had a yellow cat,
She would neither sing or pray,
She stuck her head in the buttermilk jar
And washed her sins away.

Old Joe Clark had a house
Fifteen stories high,
And every story in that house
Was filled with chicken pie.
 
I went down to Old Joe's house,
He invited me to supper,
I stumped my toe on the table leg
And stuck my nose in the butter.
 
Now I wouldn't marry a widder,
Tell you the reason why,
he'd have so many children
They'd make those biscuits fly.

Sixteen horses in my team,
The leaders they are blind,
And every time the sun goes down
There's a pretty girl on my mind.

When I was a little girl,
I used to play with toys;
Now I am a bigger girl,
I'd rather play with boys.
 
When I was a little boy,
I used to want a knife;
Now I am a bigger boy,
I only want a wife.

Wish I was a sugar tree,
Standin' in the middle of some town;
Ev'ry time a pretty girl passed,
I'd shake some sugar down.
 
I wish I had a sweetheart;
I'd set her on the shelf,
And ev'ry time she'd smile at me
I'd get up there myself.
 
Eighteen miles of mountain road
And fifteen miles of sand,
If I ever travel this road again
I'll be a married man.