—Roscoe Holcomb
Just out on the mountain sitting on a log,
Finger on the trigger and an eye on a hog,
I'm on my way, I'm going back to Coney Isle.
I pulled the trigger and the gun says zip,
Jumped on the hog with all of my grip,
I'm on my way, I'm going back to Coney Isle.
It's hello Sal, I know you,
The one old slipper and a run down shoe,
I'm on my way, I'm going back to Coney Isle.
Now talk about a people having a devil of a time,
Eating up the chicken and a drinking the wine,
I'm on my way, I'm going back to Coney Isle.
Said, I went down to the Turkish feast
People was eatin' like big wild geese
I'm on my way, I'm goin' back, Coney Isle
Bake that flapjack, bake him brown
Swing them flapjacks around, around
I'm on my way, I'm goin' back, Coney Isle
Make that featherbed and make it up a-right
Old Miner Brown are gonna stay all night
I'm on my way, I'm goin' back, Coney Isle
Makes no difference how the time may be
Everything in the world sure suits me
I'm on my way, I'm goin' back, Coney Isle
When I get ready to leave this Earth
I look a-back, say my money's worth
I'm on my way, I'm goin' back, Coney Isle
Verse, approximately:
| VI | VI | II | II | V |
| V | V | I | I | I |