An’ den de mighty question riz: how wuz he gwine to string it?
De ’possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I’s a-singin’;
De ha’r’s so long an’ thick an’ strong,—des fit fur banjo-stringin’;
Dat nigger shaved ’em off as short as washday-dinner graces:
An’ sorted ob ’em by de size—f’om little E’s to basses.
He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig,—’twuz “Nebber min’ de wedder,”—
She soun’ like forty-lebben bands a-playin’ all togedder:
Some went to pattin’; some to dancin’: Noah called de figgers;
An’ Ham he sot an’ knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers!
Now, sence dat time—it’s mighty strange—dere’s not de slightes’ showin’