Oh the praties* they grow small over here, over here,
Oh the praties they grow small over here.
Oh the praties they grow small and we dig them in the fall,
and we eat them coats and all, over here, over here.
Oh I wish that we were geese, night and morn, night and morn,
Oh I that we were geese, night and morn.
Oh I wish that we were geese and could live our lives in peace
Till the hour of our re-lease, eating corn, eating corn.
Oh we're down in-to the dust over here, over here,
Oh we're down in-to the dust over here.
Oh we're down in-to the dust but the Lord in whom we trust
will re-pay us crumb for crust, over here, over here.