Talkin’ ter hissef, an’ tree’in’ up’n uh pine
Dat wuz all obergrow’d wid uh big grapevine.
Speak ter him Romp! Mus’ be uh ’possum, Fred,
De way dat dog is cacklin’ an’ losin’ ub he hed.
An’ feedin’ on dese fros-bit grapes an’ fat
Ef he won’ meck yo’ lip go flip-flop, teck dis hat.
Well, it won’ be long fo’ de breck ub day;
An’ de possum, showly, he kyant git ’stray,
So den I’ll clime dat little black-gum tree;
Dat pine’s too full ub grapevines futto see.