The night afore he wint away
He came to bid "good-bye" there.
I thought to get him for to stay,
That thrick we couldn't try there,
For Barnes was watching, skulking round
When Jem and I were parting—
That polisman would make a pound
On any boy desarting.
I'm shure I'd like to take a quart
Of Jameson's distillin',