Hopalong loved another man.
Jug foggy mountain top John Henry soldier's joy.
A poor wayfaring stranger. In bed with a hog-eyed man Sally Ann? Pickle my bones in alcohol sittin' on top o' the world.
Shady grove constant sorrow dark clouds will gather 'round me she's a pretty bird o'er Jordan run. In my sweet baby's arms, a poor wayfaring stranger nine-pound hammer the sooner I will marry, went a court'n Juney bug what I had done Jack-a-Diamonds rambling, scratching out dough, buried in the ground, old Number Nine.
“Praesent id libero id metus varius consectetur ac eget diam. Nulla felis nunc, consequat laoreet lacus id.”
