Don't be hangin' round old
Let me dream of another morning
cotton fields were white as snow,
Catfish John was a river hobo,
lived and died where the river bends,
searching back I still remember,
I was proud to be his friend.
Mama said, don't go near that beaver,
Born a slave in the town of Vicksburg,
Traded for a chestnut make,
Still he never spoke in an ger,
Though his load was hard to bear.
Mama said, don't go near that river,
don't be hanging around old
