By Irwin Russell
Go ’way, fiddle! folks is tired o’ hearin’ you a-squawkin’,
Keep silence fur yo’ betters!—don’t you heah de banjo talkin’?
About the ’Possum’s tail she’s qwine to lecter—ladies, listen!—
About de ha’r whut isn’t dar, an’ why de ha’r is missin’:
“Dar’s gwine to be a’ oberflow,” said Noah, lookin’ solemn—
Fur Noah tuk the “Harald,” an’ he read the ribber column—
An’ so he sot his hands to wuk a-cl’arin’ timber-patches,
An’ ’lowed he’s gwine to build a boat to beat the steamah Natchez.
Ol’ Noah kep’ a-nailin’ an’ a-chippin’ an’ a-sawin’;