A Century of Parody and Imitation

by Unknown

Ain't got naathin' I'd swop for that house over thar on the hill-side.

Thar is my ole gal, 'n' the kids, 'n' the rest o' my live stock;

Thar my Remington hangs, and thar there's a griddle-cake br'ilin'—

For the two of us, pard—and thar, I allow, the heavens

Smile more friendly-like than on any other locality.

Stranger, nowhere else I don't take no satisfaction.

Gimme my ranch, 'n' them friendly old Shanghai chickens—

I brung the original pair f'm the States in eighteen-'n'-fifty—

Gimme them and the feelin' of solid domestic comfort.

Yer parding, young man—