Hominy Grits
Josephine Foster
Give to the world a bit of hominy, hominy
Hominy, hominy grits!
And it will butter all yer troubles away
You know it pleases
Me to serve you
Breakfast in the morning
Hot off the cradle
You were fine and able
My momma sent me
From the penitentiary
She stole the keys from
The warden of the century
The century
Give to the world a bit of hominy, hominy
Hominy, hominy grits!
And it will butter all yer troubles away
You know it pleases
Me to unnerve you
With my ukulele
I got a lover
He's my little baby
I nurse him at the table
'Cause he says he's feeble
And pack him up a sundown
In my little rundown
Limousine
My limousine