Di grine kuzine (The Greenhorn Cousin)
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Columbia E7553 mx. 88738-5; Recorded in NY
My cousin came to me here
As beautiful as gold she was, the greenhorn
With cheeks like red oranges
And feet just begging to dance.
She skipped instead of walking;
she sang instead of speaking.
Happy and merry was her demeanor.
That's the way my cousin was.
I went in to my "next-doorke"
Who had a millinery "storke"
And got job for my cousin--
Long live the golden land!
Years have passed since then.
My cousin has become a wreck
Many "paydays" have gone by
And there is nothing left of what she was.
Under her beautiful blue eyes
Black bags have drawn a line
Her cheeks, the red oranges
Have "greened out" entirely.
These days, when I meet my cousin
And I ask her, "How are you, Greenhorn?"
She answers me with a crooked smile:
"May Columbus's land burn to the ground!"
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