When the sun goes down, and the tide goes out,

[trof]

it gets dark and a little bit dryer.

Oh. You were expecting maybe...

When the sun goes down, the tide goes out,
The people gather 'round and they all begin to shout,
"Hey! Hey! Uncle Dud,
It's a treat to beat your feet on the Mississippi Mud.
It's a treat to beat your feet on the Mississippi Mud.

What a dance do they do!
Lordy, now I'm tellin' you...
They don't need no band...
They keep time by clappin' their hands...
Just as happy as a cow, chewin' on a cud,
When the people beat their feet on the Mississippi Mud.

trof strives to never disappoint.
;-)

And no fair changing one word in the lyrics to make this a bawdy song.
Dontcha' DO that.
Wouldn't be right.
Nossir.