HERE'S YOUR MULE
Words and music by C.D. Benson

A Farmer came to camp one day,
With milk and eggs to sell,
Upon a mule who oft would stray,
To where no one could tell.
The Farmer, tired of his tramp,
For hours was made the fool,
By everyone he met in camp,
With "Mister, here's your mule."

CHORUS:  Come on, come on,
Come on, old man,
And don't be made a fool,
By everyone you meet in camp,
With "Mister, here's your mule."

His eggs and chickens all were gone
Before the break of day,
The "Mule" was heard of all along,
That's what the soldiers say.
And still he hunted all day long,
Alas! the witless fool,
Whil'st every man would sing the song
Of "Mister, here's your mule."

CHORUS

The soldiers ran in laughing mood,
On mischief were intent;
They lifted "Muley" on their back,
Around from tent to tent.
Thro' this hole, and that, they push'd
His head, -- And made a rule,
To shout with humerous voices all,
I say" "Mister, here's your mule!"

CHORUS

Alas! one day the mule was miss'd,
Ah! who could tell his fate?
The Farmer like a man bereft,
Search'd early and search'd late,
And as he pass'd from camp to camp
With stricken face -- the fool
Cried out to everyone he met,
Oh! "Mister, where's my Mule."

CHORUS

Songs of the Confederacy