Hard Times

There was a Camptown man, used to plough and sing
He loved that mule and the mule loved him
When the day got long, as it does about now
I'd hear him singing to his muley cow

Calling, "Come on, my sweet old girl
I'd bet the whole damn world
And we're gonna make it yet to the end of the row"
Singing, "Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind, Bessie
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind no more"

Said it's a mean old world, heavy in need
And that big machine is just picking up speed
And we're supping on tears, and we're supping on wine
We all get to heaven in our own sweet time

So come, all you Asheville boys
And turn up your old-time noise
And kick 'til the dust comes up from the cracks in the floor
Singing, "Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind, brother
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind no more"

But the Camptown man, he doesn't plough no more
I seen him walking down to the cigarette store
Guess he lost that knack and he forgot that song
Woke up one morning and the mule was gone

So come, all ye ragtime kings
And come on, you dogs, and sing
And pick up your dusty old horn and give it a blow
Playing, "Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind (honey)
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind, sugar
Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind no more"