Lyrics:

Rock-a-bout, rock-a-bout, rock-a-bout.

Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Oh, there's nothing to do but to sit down and sing and rock-about my Saro Jane.

I've got a wife and five little children. Believe I'll take a trip on the big Macmillan. Oh, Saro Jane.
A guy like me don't have no home. I make my livin' on my shoulder bone. Oh, Sara Jane. Oh, Saro Jane. Oh, Saro Jane.

Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Oh, there's nothing to do but to sit down and sing and rock-about my Saro Jane.

Woke up this mornin' feeling mighty mean, thinkin' 'bout my good gal in New Orleans. Oh, Saro Jane.
Fireman, keep those boilers hot. I want to reach town by six o'clock. Oh, Saro Jane. Oh, Saro Jane. Oh, Saro Jane.

Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Oh, there's nothing to do but to sit down and sing and rock-about my Saro Jane.

Back's getting' tired and shoulder's gettin' sore. Each sack is bigger than the one before. Oh, Saro Jane.
A rock in my stomach and a watchin' my head. Gettin' superstitious 'bout my pork and bread. Oh, Saro Jane. Oh, Saro Jane.

Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Come on and rock-about my Saro Jane.
Oh, there's nothing to do but to sit down and sing and rock-about my Saro Jane.