Got ever a compliment higher’n that.
He sung at all the paring bees, the quilting teas,
the parti-ees,
He sung at all the shindigees for twenty miles
around.
He opened his lip and let her rip,
Admirers had no need to tease,
And he sprung a bass that joggled the roof and
fairly shook the ground.
While the echoes of his “funeral voice”