to the tune Turkey in the Straw
If that’s not public domain, let me know, otherwise I may end up on the street.
Busker not a Bum
I got me a jaws harp and a two bit flute,
And a pennywhistle and learned to toot.
I paid a nickel for a piccolo it is sweet!
I found an old hat and I hit the street.
Chorus:
No work in the city and none on the farm.
Playing for a living isn’t doing any harm.
I’m pleased and pleasant, I’m poor but proud.
Toss a copper in the topper, and I’ll seranade the crowd!
A beggar and a busker I’ve decided to be.
Itinerent bard is the life for me!
No work in the city and none on the farm.
Name it, I can play it with talent and charm!
Chorus
All I own is where I’m sitting on my old suitcase.
This corner or the next is my dwelling place.
Pennywhistle for a cent , piccol’ nickel any key
The flute for a quarter, and the jaws harp free!
Mack: Given how readily ‘Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don’t Care’ comes off the old whistle, perhaps you will regale us with alternative lyrics to that nugget as well.
Unless some scion of the tree of the Arkansas Traveller (known far and wide as Fiddlin’ Dan, as I recall) were to file a nuisance and frivolous law suit, I can’t imagine there will be any copyright issues or legal exposure.
And if there is, well, I live in Brooklyn and we have a saying here: “Not to worry, I know a guy…”
(1)
I grabbed my hat from the old coat rack
And I told my wife that I’d be back,
Tossed some whistles in my mando case,
And rushed on down to Aleta’s place.
Chorus:
We’re the Hallelujah Band and we came to play.
We do our tunes in the middle of the day.
From “Sentamental Journey” to “Tell Me Ma”;
But there’s not a single one of us from Arkansas!
(2)
Well, Danny was there and so was Jake
With their rebel hats at a jaunty rake.
Doc with his bowler and Kevin his cap.
No Guinness allowed, but coffee on tap!
Chorus
(3)
Well I grabbed me a cup, tuned my tater bug,
And we all got high on the music drug.
It was nine AM at our first tune,
And we whistled, picked, and fiddled until high noon.
Chorus
(4)
We played through lunch, right on till one
The folks at the tables were having fun.
They wouldn’t leave and here is why:
Arkansas Traveler: our old standby!
Well Done Mack!! It’s obvious that there is no challenge that you will not rise to meet.
Having had the joy of seeing some of those fine folks you refer to in one of your videos makes me appreciate the verse even more.
I am, however, ingorant with respect to exactly what ‘tater bug’ is, but I suspect it is one of your fine hand-wrought instruments, presumably one with strings attached.
Tater bug’s a nickname for the mandolin. Comes from the shape and color of the old bowlback ones- the back is round and striped black and white (usually), like an actual tater bug or potato beetle. Don’t know who thought of the name first, though.
Or, I once had a bowlback mando and am familiar with the Tater Bug.