JOE BOWERS
My name it is Joe Bowers;
I have a brother Ike.
I came from old Missoura,
All the way from Pike.
I used to know a girl there;
Her name was Sally Black.
I asked her if she'd marry me;
She said it was a whack.
She said to me, "Joe Bowers.
Before we hitch for life,
You'd better get a little home
To take your little wife.' '
"Oh Sally, dearest Sally,
Oh Sally, for your sake.
I'll go to California
And try and raise a stake."
When I got in that country
I didn't have a red;
I had such wolfish feelings
I wished myself most dead.
But the thughts of my dear Sally
Soon made those feelings git,
And whispered hope to Bowers,
I wish I had them yet.
At last a letter,
Enough to make me swear,
That Sally married a butcher,
And the butcher had red hair.
Before I got through reading,
At length the letter said:
Sally had a baby,
And the baby's head was red.
From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellan
Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, Virginia, 1958
Unknown - Joe Bowers Lyrics
Unknown - Joe Bowers Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
JOE BOWERS
My name it is Joe Bowers;
I have a brother Ike.
I came from old Missoura,
All the way from Pike.
I used to know a girl there;
Her name was Sally Black.
I asked her if she'd marry me;
She said it was a whack.
She said to me, "Joe Bowers.
Before we hitch for life,
You'd better get a little home
To take your little wife.' '
"Oh Sally, dearest Sally,
Oh Sally, for your sake.
I'll go to California
And try and raise a stake."
When I got in that country
I didn't have a red;
I had such wolfish feelings
I wished myself most dead.
But the thughts of my dear Sally
Soon made those feelings git,
And whispered hope to Bowers,
I wish I had them yet.
At last a letter,
Enough to make me swear,
That Sally married a butcher,
And the butcher had red hair.
Before I got through reading,
At length the letter said:
Sally had a baby,
And the baby's head was red.
From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellan
Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, Virginia, 1958
My name it is Joe Bowers;
I have a brother Ike.
I came from old Missoura,
All the way from Pike.
I used to know a girl there;
Her name was Sally Black.
I asked her if she'd marry me;
She said it was a whack.
She said to me, "Joe Bowers.
Before we hitch for life,
You'd better get a little home
To take your little wife.' '
"Oh Sally, dearest Sally,
Oh Sally, for your sake.
I'll go to California
And try and raise a stake."
When I got in that country
I didn't have a red;
I had such wolfish feelings
I wished myself most dead.
But the thughts of my dear Sally
Soon made those feelings git,
And whispered hope to Bowers,
I wish I had them yet.
At last a letter,
Enough to make me swear,
That Sally married a butcher,
And the butcher had red hair.
Before I got through reading,
At length the letter said:
Sally had a baby,
And the baby's head was red.
From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellan
Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, Virginia, 1958