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