Natur’ An’ Myself

Ducks er swimmin’ in the cove,

Squirrels barkin’ in th’ grove;

Mus’rats all erlong th’ shore,

Lyin’ on a bog ter snore.

Quails er pipin’ in th’ wood,

Partridge drummin’ Yankee Dood’;

An’ erlong the quiet stream

Bass an’ pick’rel snooze an’ dream.

Natur’s shed her summer duds,

An’ is savin’ uv her floods;

All her vines an’ barren trees,

Trembul in th’ wintry breeze.

Somehow Natur’ an’ myself

Roost tergether on the shelf;

I like Natur’, she likes me,

An’ we hol’ er jubilee.

Every year w’en I go home,

Slicker than a fine-tooth comb,

Natur’ says git off thet suit,

An’ “prepar” yerself to shute.

But I think it’s kin’er hard

Thet the Salmon River bard

Ain’t er pokin’ through the woods

Arter fur an’ feathered goods.

But the time is comin’ w’en

I’ll be roamin’ thar ergin;

An’ until thet time comes roun’

I mus’ stan’ it here in town.

Nov. 23, ‘92

    Pub. in

Conn. Valley Ad.