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Rye Whiskey (tranditonal version)
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Cave Nick
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Cave Nick
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Miscellaneous
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Rye Whiskey (tranditonal version)
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I'll eat when I'm hungry,
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I'll drink when l'm dry,
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If the hard times don't kill me,
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I'll lay down and die.
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Rye whisky, rye whisky,
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Rye whisky, I cry,
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If you don't give me rye whisky,
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I surely will die.
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I'll tune up my fiddle,
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And I'll rosin my bow,
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I'll make myself welcome,
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Wherever I go.
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Beefsteak when I'm hungry,
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Red liquor when I'm dry,
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Greenbacks when I'm hard up,
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And religion when I die.
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They say I drink whisky,
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My money's my own;
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All them that don't like me,
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Can leave me alone.
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Sometimes I drink whisky,
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Sometimes I drink rum,
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Sometimes I drink brandy,
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At other times none.
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But if I get boozy,
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My whisky's my own,
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And them that don't like me,
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Can leave me alone.
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Jack o' diamonds, jack o' diamonds,
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I know you of old,
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You've robbed my poor pockets
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Of silver and gold.
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Oh, whisky, you villain,
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You've been my downfall,
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You've kicked me, you've cuffed me,
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But I love you for all.
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If the ocean was whisky,
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And I was a duck,
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I'd dive to the bottom
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To get one sweet suck.
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But the ocean ain't whisky
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And I ain't a duck,
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So we'll round up the cattle
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And then we'll get drunk.
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My foot's in my stirrup,
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My bridle's in my hand,
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l'm leaving sweet Lillie,
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The fairest in the land.
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Her parents don't like me,
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They say l'm too poor;
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They say I'm unworthy
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To enter her door.
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Sweet milk when l'm hungry,
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Rye whisky when l'm dry,
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If a tree don't fall on me,
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I'll live till I die.
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I'll buy my own whisky,
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I'll make my own stew,
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If I get drunk, madam,
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It's nothing to you.
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I'll drink my own whisky,
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I'll drink my own wine,
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Some ten thousand bottles
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I've killed in my time.
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I've no wife to quarrel
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No babies to bawl;
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The best way of living
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Is no wife at all.
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Way up on Clinch Mountain
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I wander alone,
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l'm as drunk as the devil,
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Oh, let me alone.
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You may boast of your knowledge
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An' brag of your sense,
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'Twill all be forgotten
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A hundred years hence.
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(Negro Variant)
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In my little log cabin,
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Ever since I been born,
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Dere ain't been no nothin'
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'Cept dat hard salt, parched corn.
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But I know whar's a henhouse,
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De turkey he charve;
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An, if ol' Massa don' kill me
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I cain't never starve.
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(Variant chorus)
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Rye whisky, rye whisky,
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You're no friend to me;
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You killed my poor daddy,
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Goddamn you, try me.
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From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
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Note: One of the more exhaustive texts
Rye Whiskey
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