Ferlorner than a musquash, ef you’d took an’ dreened his swamp:
But I ain’t o’ the meechin’ kind, thet sets an’ thinks fer weeks
The bottom’s out o’ th’ univarse coz their own gillpot leaks.
I hed to cross bayous an’ criks, (wal, it did beat all natur’,)
Upon a kin’ o’ corderoy, fust log, then alligator:
Luck’ly the critters warn’t sharp-sot; I guess’t wuz overruled
They’d done their mornin’s marketin’ an’ gut their hunger cooled;
Fer missionaries to the Creeks an’ runaway’s air viewed
By them an’ folks ez sent express to be their reg’lar food:
Wutever ’t wuz, they laid an’ snoozed ez peacefully ez sinners,