You wonder what made you feel
so bad,
My friend, it is something that we've all had.
It torments so many that come this way,
And makes them swear they shall never stay.
It's the Humboldt Crud, the Humboldt Crud,
It aches in your bones and weakens your blood.
You're not quite sick, but you're sure not well,
And this Humboldt Crud makes you feel like hell.
It itches your eyes and tickles
your nose,
It gets in your skin from your head to your toes.
It ain't quite a cold and it's sure not the flu,
But you know somethin' awful has hold of you.
You can take real care and keep up your guard,
But even so it will hit you hard.
You're not quite sick, but you're sure not well
And this Humboldt Crud makes you feel like hell.
Now this is what the mystics
say,
You need the crystal to keep it away.
You burn some sage, you beat a drum,
And they swear the Crud will never come.
But I think that's such a silly notion,
Because there exists no earthly potion,
That'll keep away the Humboldt Crud.
You're not quite sick, but you're sure not well,
And the crud still makes you feel like hell.
If you ask a friend how they're
doin' today,
They'll tell you their Crud won't go away.
It's been since September and now it's Spring
And they can't get rid of the doggone thing.
It makes them shiver, it makes them sneeze,
It makes them cough and stiff in the knees.
It's not a cold, and not quite the flu,
But that Humboldt Crud has sure got them blue.
So now my friend, you know what
ya' got,
And why you didn't feel so hot.
You got touched by that nasty thing,
It took your voice and you couldn't sing.
You weren't quite sick, but you sure weren't well,
And that Humboldt Crud made you feel like hell.