I was born long ago, in eighteen ninety four
I've seen many a panic I will own
I've been hungry, I've been cold, and now I'm growin' old
But the worst I've seen is nineteen thirty one

Oh those beans, bacon and gravy
They almost drive me crazy
I eat them 'til I see them in my dreams
In my dreams
When I wake up in the morning
And another day is dawning
I know I'll have another mess of beans 

Well we congregate each morning, at the county barn at dawning
Everyone is happy so it seems
But when our day's work is done, and we pile in one by one
And thank the Lord for one more mess of beans
 [bad word] 
We've Hooverized on butter, and for milk we've only water
And I haven't seen a steak in many a day
As for pies, cakes and jellies, we substitute sour bellies
For which we work the county road each day
 [bad word] 
If there [bad word] a time, when I have more than a dime
They will have to put me under lock and key
For they've had me broke so long, I can only sing this song
Of the workers and their misery
 [bad word]