On life's highway we now must start. I once knew a lady, who went on a diet. And the way she lost, was really a fright. She took it off fast, quite a bit at the middle. At the end of the month, she's as trim as a fiddle.
Someone wants to know.
So take it from me, she's as trim as a fiddle. In the fall of the year, when the cane was ripe, It always gave us a thrill. We knew that soon, when the cane was cut, That Dad would go to the mill. He'd load up the wagon, as full as he could, With the fresh cut cane from the field. If you've never been to a sorghum mill, And watched while sorghum was made.