(Fred Burch)
This old house is falling down
The boards are rotten up from the ground
Anna, Anna
I wanna see my Anna.
The bacon's cold the gravy's steamed
To eat my cooking is a sin
Anna, Anna
How I miss my Anna.
My old hound dog house
Have torn
He seems to know
We won't see Anna again.
The cottonfields are white as snow
I miss my love I wanna go
To see Anna
I wanna see my Anna.
I miss my Anna...