Dey’s tooken de carpets and window-weights To go and shoot at de Yankee States, Dey’s tooken Nelly, de cross-eye mule, And whoever took her was one big fool; Dey’s tooken dis an’ dey’s tooken dat, Till I kain’t make out what dey’s drivin’ at. But if Ole Marse Billy could see dis place He’d cuss all Georgia blue in de face. To see me wuhkin with dis ole shammy Like a field-hand-nigger fum Alabammy, And Ole Miss wearin’ a cornhusk hat, Dippin’ ole close in de dyein’ vat, Scrapin’ her petticoats up for lint An’ bilin’ her tea out of julep-mint.

Young Marse Clay he’d feel mighty sad If he’d seed de weddin’ his sisters had. De grooms was tall and de brides was fine, But dey drunk de health in blackberry wine, And supper was thu at half-past-nine.