| Song | The Grey Goose |
| Artist | Burl Ives |
| Album | Fantastic Mr. Fox |
| One Sunday morning, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| The preacher went a hunting, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he carried along a shotgun, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And along came a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| Well he shot down a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the gun went a-boom-boom, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And down come the grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| Took six weeks of falling, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And six weeks calling, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they put him on the table, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And your wife and my wife, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| There’s time for feather pickin’, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the fork wouldn’t stick it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the knife wouldn’t cut it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they put him in the oven, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the oven wouldn’t burn him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they him in the hog pen, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the hog couldn’t eat it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he broke the hogs teeth out, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| So they threw him in the sawmill, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the sawmill wouldn’t cut him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he broke the saws teeth off, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the last time I seen him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| She was flyin’ cross the ocean, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| With a long string o' goslings, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they’re all goin’ quing, quack, Lord, Lord, Lord. |
| One Sunday morning, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| The preacher went a hunting, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he carried along a shotgun, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And along came a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| Well he shot down a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the gun went aboomboom, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And down come the grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| Took six weeks of falling, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And six weeks calling, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they put him on the table, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And your wife and my wife, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| There' s time for feather pickin', Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the fork wouldn' t stick it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the knife wouldn' t cut it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they put him in the oven, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the oven wouldn' t burn him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they him in the hog pen, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| But the hog couldn' t eat it, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he broke the hogs teeth out, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| So they threw him in the sawmill, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the sawmill wouldn' t cut him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And he broke the saws teeth off, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And the last time I seen him, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| She was flyin' cross the ocean, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| With a long string o' goslings, Lord, Lord, Lord | |
| And they' re all goin' quing, quack, Lord, Lord, Lord. |