In the old days when I was in Scouting, we often sang the song we called “Found a Peanut. Like “100 Bottles of Beer of the Wall” and “Can’t Get to Heaven,” it was repetitive, easy to remember, and allowed for a little improvisation.

Found a peanut, found a peanut, found a peanut last night.

last night I found a peanut, found a peanut last night.

Cracked it open, cracked it open, cracked it open last night last night I cracked it open, cracked it open last night.

It was rotten, it was rotten, it was rotten last night,last night it was rotten, it was rotten last night .

We always wondered why anyone walking along would pick up a rotten peanut and eat it. And, since almost everyone knew the song, you’d think the song itself would serve as a warning since the person eating the bad peanut dies near the end of the song. It (the song) had been around since the 1940s, so everyone should have known better than to eat anything off the street.

I sold “parched peanuts” at college football games when I was in high school. We called them parched to distinguish them from boiled peanuts which were very popular in the south.

We’d go up and down the aisles shouting out what we had. I felt sorry for the people selling Cokes because they were heavy. The hotdogs were too much trouble. Peanuts were easy and if somebody wanted one who was 10 seats away from the aisle, he’d pass the money own the row, and then we’d toss the pack of peanuts back to him.

You could get people to laugh if you shouted out “Hey, I found a peanut.” That worked best if we were losing the game and the fans still left in the stadium wanted something to divert their attention from the field. We never ever shouted, “Get your goobers here.”

If you found a peanut on the sidewalk,

• Would you pick it up?
• Eat it, even if it was rotten?
• Call 911?
• Feed it to a friend?

–Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell is the author of the comedy/satire novel “Special Investigative Reporter” from Thomas-Jacob Publishing.