Текст песни Grandpa Jones - Liza's Up the 'Simmon Tree

Liza up in the 'simmon tree, and the possum on the ground
Possum said, "You son of a gun, shake them 'simmons down."

CHORUS: Whoopee Liza, pretty little girl
Whoopee, Liza Jane.
Whoopee, Liza pretty little girl
She died on the train.

Cheeks are like the cherries, cherries like a rose.
How I like that pretty little girl, goodness gracious knows.

The old folks down in the mountains, grinding sugar cane.
Making barrels of molasses, for to sweeten old Liza Jane.

Whiskey by the gallon, sugar by the pound,
A great big bowl to put it in and Liza to stir it round.

I went to see my Liza Jane, she was standing in the door
Shoes and stockings in her hand and her feet all over the floor.

Her head is like a coffee pot, her nose is like a spout
Her mouth is like an old fireplace with the ashes all raked out.

I wouldn't marry a poor girl, I'll tell you the reason why.
She'd have so many poor kinfolks, she'd make my biscuits fly.

The hardest work I ever done, was a-brakin' on a train.
The easiest work I ever done, was huggin' little Liza Jane.