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作曲 : Traditional Song |
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Sitting by the roadside on a summer's day |
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Chatting with my mess-mates, passing time away |
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Lying in the shadows underneath the trees |
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Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas. |
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Peas, peas, peas, peas |
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Eating goober peas |
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Goodness, how delicious, |
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Eating goober peas. |
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When a horse-man passes, the soldiers have a rule |
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To cry out their loudest, "Mister, here's your mule!" |
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But another pleasure, enchanting-er than these |
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Is wearing out your grinders, eating goober peas. |
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Peas, peas, peas, peas |
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Eating goober peas |
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Goodness, how delicious, |
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Eating goober peas. |
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Just before the battle, the General hears a row |
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He says "The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now." |
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He turns around in wonder, and what d'ya think he sees? |
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The Georgia militia, eating goober peas. |
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Peas, peas, peas, peas |
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Eating goober peas |
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Goodness, how delicious, |
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Eating goober peas. |
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I think my song has lasted almost long enough. |
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The subject's interesting, but the rhymes are mighty tough. |
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I wish the war was over, when free from rags and fleas |
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We'd kiss our wives and sweethearts, and gobble goober peas. |
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Peas, peas, peas, peas |
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Eating goober peas |
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Goodness, how delicious, |
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Eating goober peas. |
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Peas, peas, peas, peas |
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Eating goober peas |
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Goodness, how delicious, |
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Eating goober peas. |