Now I’ll tell you all, &c.
You may talk about your fiddles and de old tambo,
But they cannot be compared with de old banjo,
On it I’ll end my song, and I’m not ashamed to deny
The title that I give it, boys, was—root hog or die.
Now I’ll tell you all, &c.
Twenty Years Ago.
I have wander’d by the village, Tom—I’ve sat beneath the tree,
Upon the school-house playing-ground which shelter’d you and me;
But none are left to greet me, Tom, and few are left to know
That play’d with us upon the green just Twenty Years Ago.
The grass is just as green, dear Tom, bare-footed boys at play
Are sporting just as we were then, with spirits just as gay;
But master sleeps upon the hill, all coated o’er with snow,
That afforded us a sliding-place just Twenty Years Ago.
The old school-house is alter’d some, the benches are replaced
By new ones, very like the same our penknives had defaced;
But the same old bricks are in the wall, the bell swings to and fro,
The music just the same, dear Tom, ’twas Twenty Years Ago.
The boys are playing some old game, beneath that same old tree,
I do forget the name just now—you have play’d the same with me;
On that same spot ’twas play’d with knives, by throwing so and so,
The leaders had a task to do there Twenty Years Ago.