Thar war two sun-dogs in the red day-dawn,
An’ the wind war laid - ’t war prime fur game.
I went ter the woods betimes that morn,
An’ tuk my flint-lock, “Nancy,” by name;
An’ thar I see, in the crotch of a tree,
A great big catamount grinnin’ at me.
A-kee! he! he! An’ a-ho! ho! he!
A pop-eyed catamount laffin’ at me!
And, as Rufe sang, the anger and remonstrance in the owl’s demeanor increased every moment. For the owl was a vocalist, too!
Bein’ made game of by a brute beastis,