And cattails, smack into where
Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare
Us clean ’crosst the County-line,
Up and down old Brandywine!
But the dim roar o’ the dam
It ’ud coax us furder still
To’rds the old race, slow and ca’m,
Slidin’ on to Huston’s mill—
Where, I ’spect, “the Freeport crowd”
Never warmed to us er ’lowed