Lyrics:
On top of Old Smokey
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
For courting too slow.
Now, courting is a pleasure
And parting is grief,
And a false-hearted lover
Is worse than a thief.
A thief will just rob you
And take what you have,
But a false-hearted lover
Will lead you to the grave.
And the grave will decay you
And turn you to dust;
Not one girl in a hundred
A poor boy can trust.
They'll hug you and kiss you
And tell you more lies
Than the crossties on the railroad
Or stars in the sky.
So, caome all you young maidens
And listen to me,
Never place your affection
On a green willow tree.
For the leaves they will wither,
And the roots they will die,
You'll all be forsaken
And never know why.
On top of Old Smokey
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
For courting too slow.
On top of Old Smokey,
All covered with sand,
I shot my school teacher,
With an old rubber band.
I shot her with pleasure,
I shot her with pride,
For I couldn't miss her,
She was forty feet wide.
She run out and catched me,
Throwed me 'cross her knee,
But in the seat of my britches,
I had my old Geography.
She reached for her ruler,
And took a swipe at me,
She missed old Kentucky,
But she hit Tennessee.
On top of Old Smokey
All covered with dirt,
I lost my suspenders
My socks and my shirt.
I lost my umbrella.
I lost my pet frog.
My food in my lunch box,
Got ate by a dog.
I lost my left sneaker,
My hat and my comb.
I lost my new toothbrush.
I lost my way home.
I found my way home, then
I did sure enough.
And I found my mommy
With all of my stuff
Yes I did (with all of my stuff!)
On top of my pizza
All covered with sauce
Could not find the mushrooms
I think they got lost.
I looked in the closet
I looked in the sink
I looked in the cup that
Held my cola drink.
I looked in the saucepan
Right under the lid
No matter where I looked
Those mushrooms stayed hid.
Next time you make pizza
I'm begging you, please
Do not give me mushrooms
But just plain old cheese.
On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball,
Was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.
The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.
So if you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball,
Whenever you sneeze.
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
For courting too slow.
Now, courting is a pleasure
And parting is grief,
And a false-hearted lover
Is worse than a thief.
A thief will just rob you
And take what you have,
But a false-hearted lover
Will lead you to the grave.
And the grave will decay you
And turn you to dust;
Not one girl in a hundred
A poor boy can trust.
They'll hug you and kiss you
And tell you more lies
Than the crossties on the railroad
Or stars in the sky.
So, caome all you young maidens
And listen to me,
Never place your affection
On a green willow tree.
For the leaves they will wither,
And the roots they will die,
You'll all be forsaken
And never know why.
On top of Old Smokey
All covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
For courting too slow.
On top of Old Smokey,
All covered with sand,
I shot my school teacher,
With an old rubber band.
I shot her with pleasure,
I shot her with pride,
For I couldn't miss her,
She was forty feet wide.
She run out and catched me,
Throwed me 'cross her knee,
But in the seat of my britches,
I had my old Geography.
She reached for her ruler,
And took a swipe at me,
She missed old Kentucky,
But she hit Tennessee.
On top of Old Smokey
All covered with dirt,
I lost my suspenders
My socks and my shirt.
I lost my umbrella.
I lost my pet frog.
My food in my lunch box,
Got ate by a dog.
I lost my left sneaker,
My hat and my comb.
I lost my new toothbrush.
I lost my way home.
I found my way home, then
I did sure enough.
And I found my mommy
With all of my stuff
Yes I did (with all of my stuff!)
On top of my pizza
All covered with sauce
Could not find the mushrooms
I think they got lost.
I looked in the closet
I looked in the sink
I looked in the cup that
Held my cola drink.
I looked in the saucepan
Right under the lid
No matter where I looked
Those mushrooms stayed hid.
Next time you make pizza
I'm begging you, please
Do not give me mushrooms
But just plain old cheese.
On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball,
Was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.
The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.
So if you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball,
Whenever you sneeze.
#FB00716
