CHAPTER XVII — OUR LOGGING-BEE
There was a man in our town,
In our town, in our town—
There was a man in our town,
He made a logging-bee;
And he bought lots of whiskey,
To make the loggers frisky—
To make the loggers frisky
At his logging-bee.
The Devil sat on a log heap,
A log heap, a log heap—
A red hot burning log heap—
A-grinning at the bee;
And there was lots of swearing,
Of boasting and of daring,
Of fighting and of tearing,
At that logging bee.