On a summer's day, in the month of May
A burly bum came hiking
Down a shady lane with a sugar cane
He was looking for his liking
As he strolled along
He sang a song of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay for many a day
And he don't need any money
Oh - The buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda-water fountains
Where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the big Rock Candy Mountains
The cops have wooden legs
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers' trees are full of fruit
The barns are full of hay
I want to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
Oh - The buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda-water fountains
Where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never wash your socks
And little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks
There's a lake of stew and whisky too
And you paddle around in a big canoe
Where they hung the Turk who invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
Oh - The buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda-water fountains
Where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
Guitar chords for the Big Rock Candy Mountains
C G7 C G7 On a summers day in the month of May F G7 C A burly bum came hiking G7 C G7 Down a shady lane with a sugar cane C He was looking for his liking G7 C As he strolled along he sang a song G7 C Of the land of milk and honey G7 C G7 Where a bum can stay for many a day C And he don't need any money G7 C C7 Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees F C The soda water fountains G7 Where the lemonade springs C And the blue bird sings G7 C In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
NOTES TO THE BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAINS
The version of this song we sing at camp is similar to the one recorded by Burle Ives in the late 1940’s. It’s sometimes known as the “children’s version” as the lyrics are rather more sugary and anodyne than some others. some versions have a single mountain, rather than mountains.
The original is believed to have been written by Harry “Haywire Mac” McClintock, the author of Halleluia I’m a Bum, although he lost his case when he made a claim for copyright. The judge ruled that the lyrics were derived from a folk song in the public domain – this was probably An Invitation to Lubberland (see right).
O Brother Where Art Thou? Lyrics
Haywire Mac’s 1928 recording features in the film O Brother Where Art Thou? (where he is credited as the author). The words from the recording are:
One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking and he said, Boys I'm not turning
I'm headed for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains
So come with me, we'll go and see
The Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out ev'ry night
Where the box-cars all are empty and the sun shines ev'ry day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers' trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes, saws nor picks
I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the Turk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
I'll see you all this comin' Fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
This is a much cleaner version than the one which Haywire Mac sang as a street busker in the 1890s, which described a hobo trying to recruit a child to his lifestyle by tall tales about a mythical paradise. He published his original words to support his court case and the last verse runs:
The punk rolled up his big blue eyes and said to the jocker, "Sandy
I've hiked and hiked and wandered too but I ain't seen any candy
I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore
And I'll be damned if I hike any more
To be buggered sore like a hobo's whore
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
Other (unattributed) verses I’ve found include:
There's a lake of gin we can both jump in and the handouts grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay we can sleep all day and the bars all have free lunches
Where the mail train stops and there ain't no cops
And the folks are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks and you never throw rocks
And your hair is never parted
Oh, a farmer and his son, they were on the run, to the hay field they were bounding
Said the bum to the son, Why don't you come to that Big Rock Candy Mountain?
So the very next day they hiked away,
The mileposts they were counting
But they never arrived at the lemonade tide
On the Big Rock Candy Mountain
An Invitation to Lubberland
Wikipedia has a big entry on The Big Rock Candy Mountains, including information about An Invitation to Lubberland – a broadside ballad first printed in 1685.
An Invitation to Lubberland with An Account of the great Plenty of that Fruitful Country To the tune of Billy and Molly (now lost) or The Journey-man Shoemaker (by Daniel Cooper)
There is all sorts of Fowl and Fish, with Wine and store of Brandy
Ye have there what your hearts can wish: the Hills are Sugar-Candy
There is a ship, we understand, now riding in the river
'Tis newly come from Lubberland, the like I think was never
You that a lazy life do love I'd have you now go over
They say the land is not above two thousand leagues from Dover
The captain and the master too does give us this relation
And so do's all the whole ship's crew concerning this strange nation
The streets are pav'd with pudding-pies, nay, powder'd-beef and bacon
They say they scorn to tell you lies who thinks it is mistaken
The king of Knaves, and Queen of Sluts reign there in peace and quiet
You need not fear to starve your guts, there is such store of dyet
There may you live free from all care,like hogs set up a fat'ning
The garments which the people wear is silver, silk and satin
The lofty buildings of this place for many years have lasted
With nutmegs, pepper, cloves, and mace the walls are there rough-casted
In curious hasty-pudding boil'd and most ingenious carving
Likewise they are with pancakes ty'd, sure, here's no fear of starving
The captain says, In every town, hot roasted pigs will meet ye
They in the streets run up and down, still crying out, Come eat me
Likewise, he says, At every feast, tthe very fowls and fishes
Nay from the biggest to the least, comes tumbling to the dishes
The rivers run with claret fine, the brooks with rich canary
The ponds with other sorts of wine to make your hearts full merry
Nay, more than this, you may behold the fountains flow with brandy
The rocks are like refined gold, the hills are sugar candy
Rose-water is the rain they have, which comes in pleasant showers
All places are adorned brave with sweet and fragrant flowers
Hot custards grows on ev'ry tree, each ditch affords rich jellies
Now if you will be ruled by me, go there and fill your bellies
There's nothing there but holy-days with music out of measure
Who can forbear to speak the praise of such a land of pleasure?
There may you lead a lazy life free from all kind of labours
And he that is without a wife may borrow of his neighbour
There is no law nor lawyer's fees, all men are free from fury
For ev'ry one do's what he please without a judge or jury
The summer-time is warm they say, the winter's ne'er the colder
They have no landlords' rent to pay; each man is a free-holder
You that are free to cross the seas, make no more disputation
In Lubber-land you'll live at ease with pleasant recreation
The Captain waits but for a gale of prosperous wind and weather
And then they soon will hoist up sail, make haste away together