The Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge; or, A Lucky Find in the Carolina Mountains

by Frank Gee Patchin

"Sing something soft and low," begged Stacy.

"No, none of those sob songs for mine," objected Ned. "Give us something to cheer us up. We need cheering."

"Yassir."

Chops cleared his throat and with frying pan in hand began to sing in a melodious voice:

Quit dat playin' 'possum,
Ah sees dem eyelids peep!
Spec's to fool yo' mammy
P'tendin' you'se ersleep.

Smah'tes li'l baby dat uver drord a bref,
Try ter fool he mammy, he gwine git sho'-nuff lef'.
'Possum, 'possum, 'possum mighty sly,
'Possum, 'possum, 'possum, ah sees you blink dat eye.

Bye-o, bye-o, baby,
'Possum mighty sly,
Bye-o, bye-o, baby, Bye-o, bye-o-bye.
M-hm-m-m-m. M-hm-hm-hm!

"Hooray!" howled the Pony Rider Boys.

"''Possum mighty sly, Bye-o, bye-o, baby bye.'"

"Go on. Sing some more," urged Tad.