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"