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Our victuals they were never hot
You should have seen the soup we got
Which gave most evry man the trot
Before we got to dixie
In running out the boys caut cold
Which made them cross and made them scold
Our codfish sometimes tasted old
Here on the road to dixie
Next down the river we took a tour
We-d chance to sleep about an hour
Our meat was bad our coffee sour
Tis fun to go to Dixie
Still I suppose it is all right
But if you wish to see a sight
Be shure and travil in the night
As we did down to Dixie
They must have thought us fond of jars
They put us in some poor old cars
And jolted us till we saw stars
Comming down to Dixie
In the Philadelphia cooper shop
Evry man filled well his crop