“Okay, Jim, are you ready to learn a few songs?” I didn’t say anything, but stared at him. He stared back at me and just started singing, a big, crazy grin on his face: Ole Dan Tucker was a fine old man, Washed his face with a fryin’ pan, Combed his hair with a wagon wheel, Died with a toothache in his heel. Git outen de way, Ole Dan Tucker, You’s too late to come yo supper. Git outen de way, Ole Dan Tucker, You’re too late to git yo supper.
