E'er since Miss Susan Johnson lost her Jockey, Lee,
There has been much excitement, more to be
You can hear her moaning night and morn.
Wonder where my Easy Rider's gone?
Cable grams come of sympathy,
Telegrams go of inquiry,
Letters come from down in Bam
And everywhere that Uncle Sam
Has even a rural delivery.
All day the phone rings, But it's not for me,
At last good tidings fill our hearts with glee,
This message comes from Tennessee.
Dear Sue your Easy Rider struck this burg today,
On a south-bound rattler side door Pullman car.
Seen him here an' he was on the hog
Spoken The smoke was broke, no joke, not a jitney on him.
Easy Rider's gotta stay away,
So he had to vamp it, but the hike ain't far.
He's gone where the Southern cross' the Yellow Dog.
I know the Yellow Dog District like a book,
Indeed I know the route that Rider took;
Ev'ry cross tie, bayou, burg and bog.
Way down where the Southern cross' the Dog,
Money don't zactly grow on trees.
On cotton stalks it grows with ease
No race horse, race track, no grand stand
Is like Old Beck and Buckshot land,
Down where the Southern cross' the Dog,
Every kitchen there is a cabaret,
Down there the boll weevil works while the darkies play,
This Yellow Dog Blues the live long day.
Dear Sue your Easy Rider struck this burg today,
On a south-bound rattler side door Pullman car.
Seen him here an' he was on the hog
Spoken The smoke was broke, no joke, not a jitney on him.
Easy Rider's gotta stay away,
So he had to vamp it, but the hike ain't far.
He's gone where the Southern cross' the Yellow Dog.