You bring the sorghum,
The sorghum, the syrup O,
Tuck it in a bucket,
Or lug it in a pail.
I'll make the griddle cakes,
Puffy-in-the-middle cakes.
Tie them up with bacon
And we'll eat them by the bale.

You come to breakfast,
To breakfast in the morning,
If you are a-hungry
We will feed you some.
We'll fill you with griddle cakes
Till your little middle aches,
We'll put you in a barrow
And we'll trundle you home.

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