Ther Ol’ Connecticut

Tell me whar in all creation,

This or any forin nation,

Kin be foun’ a nearer stream,

Like unto a poet’s dream

     Than ther ol’ Connecticut.

Sourcin’ up among ther mountains,

Plashin’ here an’ thar like fountains,

Swashin’ high an’ cuttin’ low,

On, ter meet the ebb an’ flow

     Comes ther ol Connecticut.

Then for’ards, back’ards, eben measure,

Like es ‘o’ ‘twas jes er pleasure,

Twixt the sunny meads an’ rills,

Sheltered by the valley hills,

     Flows the ol’ Connecticut.

Time ne’er’ll change the love I give ‘er

Any more’n ‘twill turn ther river;

For nigh to her I ‘us born an’ reared,

An’ roun’ her banks fleet craft I’ve steered,

     Bless ther ol’ Connecticut!

Nov. 7, 1890
Pub. in the
Ct. Valley Ad.
Jan. 10, 1891