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
