Give to the world a bit of hominy, hominy   Hominy, hominy grits!   And it will butter all yer troubles away   You know it pleases   Me to serve you   Breakfast in the morning   Hot off the cradle   You were fine and able   My momma sent me   From the penitentiary   She stole the keys from   The warden of the century   The century      Give to the world a bit of hominy, hominy   Hominy, hominy grits!   And it will butter all yer troubles away   You know it pleases   Me to unnerve you   With my ukulele   I got a lover   He's my little baby   I nurse him at the table   'Cause he says he's feeble   And pack him up a sundown   In my little rundown   Limousine   My limousine