In Kansas

The Canfield collection of 1926 has two versions from unidentified contributors under the title "In Mobile."
[ B ]

Oh, potatoes they grow small,
	In Mobile,
Oh, potatoes they grow small,
	In Mobile,
Oh, potatoes they grow small,
And they dig them in the fall,
And they eat them skin and all,
	In Mobile.

Oh, they chew tobacco thin,
	In Mobile,
Oh, they chew tobacco thin,
	In Mobile,
Oh, they chew tobacco thin,
And it leads out on their chin,
And they lick it in again,
	In Mobile.

Oh, the eagles they fly high,
	In Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high,
	In Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high,
And they shit down in your eye,
Oh, I'm glad that cows don't fly,
	In Mobile.

Oh, the only cow is dead,
	In Mobile,
Oh, the only cow is dead,
	In Mobile,
Oh, the only cow is dead,
So they milk the bull instead,
For the children must be fed,
	In Mobile.

Oh, there are not many whores,
	In Mobile.
Oh, there are not many whores,
	In Mobile.
Oh, there are not many whores,
They fuck knotholes in the floors,
And the keyholes in the doors.
	In Mobile.

But the women-folks are prime,
	In Mobile.
But the women-folks are prime,
	In Mobile.
But the women-folks are prime,
You can screw them for a dime,
And they dose you every time,
	In Mobile.

[ C ]

The men are small and tough,
	In Mobile.
The men are small and tough,
	In Mobile.
And the girls are big and rough.
So they never get enough
	In Mobile.

The eagles now fly higher
	In Mobile.
The eagles now fly higher
	In Mobile.
Since one hit a trolley wire
And set its balls on fire
	In Mobile.

[ D ]

Paul Woodford advises that in hashing circles, this is sung to the tune of "Over There," the Irish famine song known also as "The Praties They Grow Small."  Like many of the songs in Woodford's collection, this hints of its possible source in English tradition with the use of slang terms such as "bogs" for "toilets," and "bugger" instead of "cornhole."

Oh, the eagles they fly high in Mobile, in Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high in Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high,
And they shit right in your eye,
Thank the Lord that cows don't fly,
In Mobile.

CHORUS: 
In Mobile, in Mobile,
In Mo, in Mo, in Mobile,
A-a-sshole, a-a-sshole, a-a-a-sshole.

There's a girl by the name of Dinah in Mobile, in Mobile,
There's a girl by the name of Dinah in Mobile,
There's a girl by the name of Dinah,
Who thinks there's nothing finer,
Than a prick up her vagina,
In Mobile.

Oh the vicar is a bugger in Mobile, etc., 
And the curate is another,
And they bugger one another,
In Mobile.

There's a shortage of bog paper in Mobile, etc.,
So they wait until it vapors,
Then they light it with a taper,
In Mobile.

If you're ever thrown in jail in Mobile, etc.,
Well there's no need for bail,
'Cause the sheriff's wife's for sale,
In Mobile.

Oh, the Hashers get no tail in Mobile, etc.,
So for want of recreation, they indulge in masturbation,
It's a hell of a situation,
In Mobile.

Oh, there's a brand-new lighthouse in Mobile, etc.,
Which the birds use for a shit-house,
Now the lighthouse is a white house,
In Mobile.

There's a shortage of good bogs in Mobile, etc.,
So they wait until it clogs,
Then they saw it up in logs,
In Mobile.

There's a man by the name of Hunt in Mobile, etc.,
Who thought he had a cunt,
But his balls were back to front,
In Mobile.

There's a man by the name of West in Mobile, etc.,
Who thought he had a breast,
But his balls were on his chest,
In Mobile.

Oh, the girls they wear tin undies in Mobile, etc.,
And they take them off on Sundays,
You should see the boys on Mondays,
In Mobile.

There's a shortage of good whores in Mobile, etc.,
But there's keyholes in the doors,
And there's knotholes in the floors,
In Mobile.

Oh, the parson is perverted in Mobile, etc.,
And his morals are inverted,
There's a thousand he's converted,
In Mobile.

Frenchies are in short supply in Mobile, etc.,
And that's the reason why,
You'll see them hanging out to dry,
In Mobile.

The virgins they are rare in Mobile, etc.,
When they get their pubic hair,
They're deflowered by the mayor,
In Mobile.

Oh, the girls they wear tin pants in Mobile, etc.,
And they take them off to dance,
All the fellows get a chance,
In Mobile.

There's a lad named Dirty Danny in Mobile, etc.,
And he likes a bit of fanny,
And he gets if off of granny, 
In Mobile.

There's a bastard named Mercator in Mobile, etc.,
Who's the greatest fornicator,
Masturbator, cunt-inflater,
In Mobile.

There's a girl with no ambition in Mobile, etc.,
And when she isn't wishin', she gets it in the kitchen,
From the local obstetrician,
In Mobile. 

Oh, men of drinking classes in Mobile, etc.,
When you've finished with your glasses,
You can shove them up your asses,
In Mobile.

Oh, the chemists are the key men in Mobile, etc.,
Selling dehydrated semen,
To emasculated he-men,
In Mobile.

Oh, the privates wash the dishes in Mobile, etc.,
And they dry them on their britches,
Oh, the dirty sons of bitches,
In Mobile.

Oh, the sergeant is a bugger in Mobile, etc.,
And the corporal is another,
And they bugger one another,
In Mobile.

Oh, they drink their whisky neat in Mobile, etc.,
Till it drops them off their feet,
And they cannot get a beat,
In Mobile.

Oh, I chased the colonel's daughter in Mobile, etc.,
And I shagged her when I caught her,
Now the daughter's got a daughter,
In Mobile.

Oh, the cows they are all dead in Mobile, etc., 
So they milk the bulls instead,
'Cause the bastards must be fed,
In Mobile.

This is number 272 in Paul Woodford's collection, "Hash Hymns II" (Honolulu, Hawaii, 1994), and sent on computer disc to the editor.  Woodford advises his readers to "take turns leading verses."