Now, in dese busy wukin’ days, dey’s changed de Scripter fashions,
An’ you needn’t look to mirakuls to furnish you wid rations;
Now, when you’s wantin’ loaves o’ bread, you got to go and fetch ’em,
An’ ef you’s wantin’ fishes, you mus’ dig your wums an’ ketch ’em;
For you kin put it down as sartin dat the time is long gone by,
When sassages an’ ’taters use to rain fum out de sky!
I nebber likes de cullud man dat thinks too much o’ eatin’;
But frolics froo de wukin’ days, and snoozes at de meetin’;
Dat jines de Temp’ance ’Ciety, an’ keeps a gettin’ tight,
An’ pulls his water-millions in de middle ob de night!