Wal, I Swan (Git Up, Napoleon) I run the old mill over here in ReubensviUe, My name's Joshua Ebenezer Frye; I know a thing or two, just bet your boots I do, Can't fool me 'cause I'm too darn spry. I've met your bunco men, always got the best of them; Once I met a couple on a Boston train. They says, "How be you ?" I says, "That'll do- Travel right along with your darned skinned game!" cho: Wal, I swan, I must be getting on, Git up, Napoleon, it looks likc rain ; Wal, l'II be switched, the hay ain't pitched; Come in when you're over to the farm again. I drove the old mare over to the country fair, Took first prize on a load of Summer squash. Stopped at the cider mill coming over by the hill, Come home tighter than a drum, by gosh! I was so darned full I gave away the old bull, Dropped both reins clean out on the fill; Got home so darned late couldn't find the barn gate, Ma says, "Joshua, 'tain't poss-i-bil!" We had a big show here about a week ago, Pitched up a tent by the old mill dam; Ma says, "Let's go in to see the side show- Just take a look at the tattooed man," I see a cuss look sharp at my pockethook, Says, "Gimme two tens for a five?" I says, "You darn fool, I be the constable- Now you're arrested sure as you're alive." I drove the old bay into town yesterday, Hitched her up to the railroad fence; Tied_her good and strong, but a train came along- I ain't seen the horse or the wagon sense. Had to foot it home, so I started off alone, When a man says, "Hurry, your barn's on fire!" Wal, I had the key in my pocket, you see, So I knew the cuss was a fool or a liar. My son Joshua went to Philadelphia, He wouldn't do a day's work if he could; He didn't give a darn about staying on the farm, What he's coming to ain't no good. Smokes cigarettes, too, way the city folks do, Keeps a-writin' home he's doing right well; Seems kind of funny, but he's always out of money- Ma says the boy's up to some kind of hell. From Pious Friends, Shay RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!