He’d rather swap hosses than eat a good meal,
He’d take all the chances—and Jim wouldn’t
squeal!
He’d talk like a cyclone on any old skate
—Take a wheezy old pel ter with hopity gait
And he’d make you believe—would that Dick-
erer Jim—
There were all kinds of pedigrees tied up in
him.
And you bet your old boots, if he got you in