Sitting by the roadside on a summer day,
Chatting with my messmates, passing time away,
Lying in the shadow underneath the trees,
Goodness! how delicious, eating goober peas.
Peas, peas, peas, peas, eating goober peas.
Goodness ! how delicious, eating goober peas.
When a horseman passes, the soldiers have a rule
To cry out at their loudest, "Mister, here's your mule,"
But another pleasure, enchantinger than these,
Is wearing out your grinders eating goober peas.
Just before the battle the General hears a row,
He says, "The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now;"
He turns around in wonder, and what do you think he sees?
The Georgia militia are eating goober peas.
I think my song has lasted almost long enough,
The subject's interesting, but the rhymes are mighty rough.
I wish this war was over, when free from rags and fleas,
We'd kiss our wives and sweethearts, and gobble goober peas.