Of the roar of his voice and the build of his
jaw;
He was lookin’ for trouble and carried a chip
And chance for a tussle he never let slip;
He hated to think that the world could still go
When he stood at one side and kept hollerin’
“whoa!”
One day he was teamin’ his oxen to town;
He set on the cart tongue., his feet hangin’
down.