Oh, once upon a time in Arkansas,
An old man sat in his little cabin door
And fiddled at a tune that he liked to hear,
A jolly old tune that he played by ear.
It was raining hard, but the fiddler didn't care,
He sawed away at the popular air,
Tho' his rooftree leaked like a waterfall,
That didn't seem to bother the man at all.

A traveler was riding by that day,
And stopped to hear him a-practicing away;
The cabin was a-float and his feet were wet,
But still the old man didn't seem to fret.
So the stranger said "Now the way it seems to me,
You'd better mend your roof," said he.
But the old man said as he played away,
"I couldn't mend it now, it's a rainy day."

The traveler replied, "That's all quite true,
But this, I think, is the thing to do;
Get busy on a day that is fair and bright,
Then patch the old roof till it's good and tight."
But the old man kept on a-playing at his reel,
And tapped the ground with his leathery heel.
"Get along," said he, "for you give me a pain;
My cabin never leaks when it doesn't rain."

Oh, 'twas down in the woods of the Arkansaw,
And the night was cloudy and the wind was raw,
And he didn't have a bed, and he didn't have a bite,
And if he hadn't fiddled, he'd a travelled all night.

But he came to a cabin, and an old gray man,
And says he, "Where am I going? Now tell me if you can."

"Oh, we'll have a little music first and then some supper, too,
But before we have the supper we will play the music through.
You'll forget about your supper, you'll forget about your home,
You'll forget you ever started out in Arkansaw to roam."

Now the old man sat a-fiddling by the little cabin door,
And the tune was pretty lively, and he played it o'er and o'er,
And the stranger sat a-list'ning and a-wond'ring what to do,
As he fiddled and he fiddled, but he never played it through.

Then the stranger asked the fiddler, "Won't you play the rest for me?"
"Don't know it," says the fiddler. "Play it for yourself!" says he.

Then the stranger took the fiddle, with a riddy-diddle-diddle,
And the strings began to tingle at the jingle of the bow,
While the old man sat and listened, and his eyes with pleasure glistened,
As he shouted, "Hallelujah! And hurray for Joe!"

Oh, there was a little boy and his name was Bo,
Went out into the woods when the moon was low,
And he met an old bear who was hungry for a snack,
And his folks are still a-waiting for Bosephus to come back.

For the boy became the teacher of this kind and gentle creature
Who can play upon the fiddle in a very skillful way.
And they'll never, ever sever, and they'll travel on forever,
Bosephus and the fiddle and the old black bear.

I'm bringin' home a baby bumblebee
Oh, my mommy be so proud of me
I'm bringin' home a baby bumblebee --
Ow! It stung me!

I'm squishin' up my baby bumblebee (same structure as first verse)
...Yuck! It's dirty!

I'm scraping off my baby bumblebee
...Mmm. I'm hungry!

I'm scooping up my baby bumblebee (gestures show scooping into mouth and eating)
...Ow! My tummy!

I'm throwing up my baby bumblebee
...Yuck. It's messy.

I'm bringing home my baby bumblebee....

Far and far away down in Arkansas
There lived a squatter with a stubborn jaw.
His nose was ruby red and his whiskers gray
And he would sit and fiddle all the night and all the day.

Came a traveler down the road and asked if he could find a bed
Yes try the road the kindly squatter said.
Then could you point me out the way to find a tavern or an inn.
Down the road a piece I reckon though I've never been.

Then the rain came down on the cabin floor
But the squatter only fiddled all the more.
Why don't you mend your roof said the travler bold
How can I mend the roof when the rain is wet and cold.

Squatter pick a day with weather bright and fair and nice.
Patch up your roof, that is my advice.
The squatter shook his hoary head and answered with a stubborn air
Cabin never leaks a drop when days are bright and fair.

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Written music of the tune the Arkansas traveler  (Return to top)

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A history of the tune, the Turkey in the straw  (Return to top)

Wiki "Turkey in the Straw" is a well-known American folk song dating from the early 19th century. The song's tune was first popularized in the late 1820s and early 1830s by blackface performers, notably George Washington Dixon, Bob Farrell and George Nichols. Another song, "Zip Coon", was sung to the same tune. This version was first published between 1829 and 1834 in either New York or Baltimore. All of the above performers claimed to have written the song, and the dispute is not resolved. Ohio songwriter Daniel Decatur Emmett is sometimes erroneously credited as the song's author.[