A-runnin’ like fun, for he’d no time to lose.
And he’d howl down the ro’d in a big cloud of
dust,
For he made it his brag he was allus there fust.
—Allus there fust, with a whoop and a shout,
And he never shut up till the fire was out.
And he’d knock out the winders and save all the
doors,
And tear off the clapboards, and rip up the
floors,