Fur Noah tuk de ‘Herald,’ and he read de ribber column—
An’ so he sot his hands to wuk a-cl’arin’ timber-patches,
An’ ’lowed he’s gwine to build a boat to beat de steamah Natchez.
Ol’ Noah kep’ a-nailin’ an’ a-chippin’ an’ a-sawin’;
An’ all de wicked neighbors kep’ a-laughin’ and a-pshawin’;
But Noah didn’t min’ ’em, knowin’ whut wuz gwine to happen:
An’ forty days an’ forty nights de rain it kep’ a-drappin’.
Now, Noah had done cotched a lot of ebry sort o’ beas’es—
Ob all de shows a-trabelin’, it beat ’em all to pieces!
He had a Morgan colt an’ sebral head o’ Jarsey cattle—