Curly:
Pore Jud is daid,
Pore Jud Fry is daid,
All gether ’round his cawfin now and cry.
He had a heart of gold
And he wasn’t very old—
Oh, why did sich a feller have to die?
Pore Jud is daid,
Pore Jud Fry is daid.
He’s lookin’, oh, so peaceful and serene—

Jud:
And serene!

Curly:
He’s all laid out to rest
With his hands acrost his chest.
His fingernails have never b’en so clean.
But the folks ’at really knowed him,
Knowed ’at beneath them two dirty shirts he alw’ys wore,
There beat a heart as big as all outdoors.

Jud:
As big as all outdoors.

Curly:
Jud Fry loved his fellow man.

Jud:
He loved his fellow man.

Curly:
Pore Jud is daid,
Pore Jud Fry is daid,
His friends’ll weep and wail fer miles around—

Jud:
Miles around.

Curly:
The daisies in the dell
Will give out a diff’runt smell
Becuz pore Jud is underneath the ground.

Jud:
Pore Jud is daid,
A candle lights his haid,
He’s layin’ in a cawfin made of wood—

Curly:
Wood.

Jud:
And folks are feelin’ sad
Cuz they useter treat him bad,
And now they know their friend has gone fer good—

Curly:
Good.

Both:
Pore Jud is daid,
A candle lights his haid—

Curly:
He’s lookin’, oh, so purty and so nice!
He looks like he’s asleep.
It’s a shame that he won’t keep,
But it’s summer and we’re runnin’ out of ice...

Both:
Pore Jud—pore Jud!