I ain’t never knew sich a hevvenly blue,
Ef ye’ll ’low me in passin’ ter mention.
The river was full, plum full ter the top,
A matter o’ thirty odd feet,
An’ the water hed backed ont’ the bottoms right smart,
But was dreenin’ off fast with the heat.
’Twas a sarpent o’ choc’lit a-rithin’ an’ twistin’
Ri’ down a arborial tunnel;
An’ Bill ’e sez, “Naow, ef we hed a ol’ scaow,
We could flote ter Noorleans thru a funnel!”