A Little Fly

In my search for lyrics of songs that really don’t exist, these are two that I recall my mother singing when I was a kid. Mom grew up in Chicago in the 30’s and 40’s. I believe they were passed down to her by her granny-gran.

A Little Fly

Oh, a little fly flew in the grocery store,
He sat on the counter and he sat on the floor-
He sat on the sugar and he sat on the ham,
And he sat on the nose of the grocery man!

I Sat on a Tack
I sat on a tack and oh what a whack
I got on my back from sitting on the tack.
With a whim, wham wangle and a strim, stram strangle,
Oh, babalow, pretty boy, over the bree.
(Kinda say “over da bree” with a nasal slurred voice.)

Next search: I’m looking over my dead dog Rover – it’s truly a show stopper.

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