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Dead Horse
Ook wel: Poor Old Man
- A poor old man came riding by
And we say so, and we know so
O, a poor old man came riding by
O, poor old man
- Says I, "Old man, your horse will die."
And if he dies, we'll tan his hide
- And if he don't, I'll ride him again
And I'll ride him, 'til I don't know when
- For one long month I rode him hard
For one long month we all rode him hard
- But now your month is up, old Turk
Get up, you swine, and look for work
- He's as dead as a nail in the lamp-room door
And he won't worry us no more
- We'll use the hair of his tail, to sew our sails
And the iron of his shoe to make deck nails
- We'll hoist him up to the fore yard-arm
Where’e won't do sailors any harm
- We'll drop him down with a long, long rope
And we say so, and we know so
Where the sharks will ’ave his body and the Devil take his soul.
Oh, poor…. Old… Man...