With a bent pin for a fish-hook an' a hazel fer a pole,
How we sought the softest places by the widest, deepest hole!
How we teehee-eed at the nibbles, caught the fishes one by one,
With the biggest kind o' prowess, on the banks o' Turkey Run!
When the sun was burnin' shavin's in the heatin' stove o' June,
An' the clock upon the mantle wus a-knockin' off the noon
When the beams in bunches blistered as they never did afore,
An' the sweat was drippin', droppin', from the mouth o' every pore,
How we skipped across the medder, how our swimmin' wus begun,
In the cool an' crystal waters 'tween the banks o' Turkey Run!