Summer is coming, catfish are jumping,
The willows are weeping up the river,
Mandaddy's wagon comes rattling and dragging
His magical route.
He's bringing ghost stories and bright penny-whistles,
White Chinese muzzles 'n tins of glory.
Look on the horizon and see the dust rolling down the road.
Chorus: Well, my name is Mandaddy and I roam these hills.
I sing and I whistle and I'll cure your ills.
Oh Mandaddy, oh Mandaddy's gonna cure your ills,
Mandaddy's gonna cure your ills.
He walks like a farmer, talks like warm water,
Smells like tobacco and gun powder.
He's bringing red garters and bright copper kettles
And brown leather shoes.
He says,