Keepin’ Secrets

Ol’ man Crockett come down to the store,

     He’d a secret he wanted to tell;

So he told Bill Jones in the softest of tones,

     An’ told Bill to keep it right well.

“Don’t breathe a word more,” said Crockett to Bill,

     “There’ll be thunder to pay ef you do”;

Then he met Hiram Snow, jest a little below,

     An’ took him in confidence, too.

“Don’t dare breathe a word,” he cautioned ol’ Hi’,

     “Don’t want it to git round the town”;

Then he jogged on his way, quite important an’ gay,

     Till he met neighbor Cottonwood Brown.

“Say, Cot’,” said ol’ Crockett, “I’ve somethin’ to say,

     Thet’s important, but don’t dare repeat”;

An’ then I’ll be shot ef he didn’t tell Cot’

     What he’d told to the rest up the street.

An’ so it went on till he met eight or ten,

     An’ to each he imparted the tale;

Though he cautioned them all that the heavens would fall

     If to keep the dark secret they’d fail.

Then Crockett went home with an easier mind,

     For his secret was well hammered down;

But the very next day, to his surprise and dismay,

     ‘Twas the talk uv the hull bloomin’ town.

Now the moral is here, as plain as your face:

     We wonder our secrets are plain,

When we know mighty well, if the truth we would tell,

     We’re Crocketts right over again.

Oct. 27, '10