There was once a great assemblage of the cullud population,
all the cullud swells was there,
They had got them-selves together to discuss the situation
and rumours in the air.
There were speakers there from Georgia and some from Tennessee,
who were making feather fly,
When a roostah in the bahn-ya'd flew up what folks could see,
Then those darkies all did cry.
Chorus: Who dat say chicken in dis crowd?
Speak de word agin' and speak it loud--
Blame de lan' let white folks rule it,
I'se a lookin fu a pullet,
Who dat say chicken is dis crowd.
A famous culled preacher told his listnin' congregation,
all about de way to ac',
Ef dey want to be respected and become a mighty nation
to be hones' Fu' a fac'.
Dey mus nebber lie, no nebber, an' mus' not be caught a-stealin'
any pullets fun de lin',
But an aged deacon got up an' his voice it shook wif feelin',
As dese words he said to him.
Chorus: Who dat say chicken in dis crowd?
Speak de word agin' and speak it loud--
What's de use of all dis talkin',
Let me hyeah a hen a sqauwkin'
Who dat say chicken in dis crowd.
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