Barefoot Boy With The Boots On(Keyboard chords)

	        Barefoot Boy with Boots On 
Words by Asa Martin, Music Traditional 

John: fiddle & vocal 
George: guitar 

ODh, the night was dark and cloudy 
TGhe moon was shining bright 
TDhe stars were casting burning rays 
OEn the storm that raged that nA7ight 
LDightening struck the cowshed 
And the cGows all chewed their cDud 
MDoonlight set the prairie on fire 
In the mA7iddle of the wDoods 

Oh, the barefoot boy with boots on  
Come a-shuffling down the street 
His pants were full of pockets 
And his boots were full of feet 
He was born when he was a baby 
His grandma’s pride and joy 
His only sister was a girl 
And his brother was a boy 

He never was a triplet  
But he always was a twin 
His legs were fastened to his knees 
Just below his chin 
And his feet were fastened to his ankles 
Several inches from his shoulder 
And when he grew up he became a man 
And everyday got older 

He married him a woman 
Who quickly became his wife 
For you see he could not marry her 
And maintain a single life 
Her head was full of notions 
And her mouth was full of tongue 
They raised a dozen children 
All born when they was young 

Six boys, five girls 
And then another child 
They never tried to raise them right 
Just let them grow up wild 
And late in the evening 
They’d send them off to bed 
Not sure if they was living 
And they wished they all was dead 

The youngest was a baby 
But the oldest was one first 
The good one was the bad one 
But the bad one was the worst 
They never knew their ages 
No, they never seemed to care 
‘Cause they knew they had a birthday 
And it came ‘round once a year 

They never knew their father’s age 
But they always had a hunch  
That he was born before their time 
Was the oldest of the bunch 
And when they died they could not speak 
Their names they could not tell 
The girls all went to heaven 
And the boys all went to 

The organ peeled potatoes 
Lard was rendered by the choir 
When the parson rang the dishrag 
Someone set the church on fire 
“Hole smokes!” the preacher shouted 
As he madly tour his hair 
Now his head resembles heaven 
For there’ll be no parting there