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(learned in the 50s from various songbooks and records)

(music to go here)

I'll sing you a song and it's not very long
It's about a young man who wouldn't hoe corn
The reason why I cannot tell
For this young man was always well.

He planted his corn in the month of June
And by July it was knee-high
First of September there came a big frost
And all this young man's corn was lost.

He went down to the fence and he peeped therein
The weeds and the grass grew up to his chin
The weeds and the grass they grew so high
They caused this young man for to sigh.

So he went down to his neighbor's door
Where he had often been before,
Sayin', Pretty little miss, will you marry me?
Pretty little miss, what do you say?

Here you are, a-wantin' to be wed
And you cannot make your own cornbread,
Single I am and single I'll remain
A lazy man I'll not maintain.

You go down to that pretty little widder
And I hope by heck that you don't git 'er
She gave him the mitten as sure as you're born
And all because he wouldn't hoe corn.

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)