HUNTING SONG

Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah,

Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’;

Jes’‘ bout fall-time o’ de yeah

W'en de leaves is dry an brown;

Tek a dog an’ tek a axe,

Tek a lantu'n in yo’ han’,

Step light whah de switches cracks,

Fu’ dey‘ s huntin’ in de lan’.

Down thoo de valleys an’ ovah de hills,

Into de woods whah de‘ simmon-tree grows,

Wakin’ an’ skeerin’ de po’ whippo'wills,

Huntin’ fu’ coon an’ fu’‘ possum we goes.

Blow dat ho'n dah loud an’ strong,

Call de dogs an’ da'kies neah;

Mek its music cleah an’ long,

So de folks at home kin hyeah.

Blow it twell de hills an’ trees

Sen's de echoes tumblin’ back;

Blow it twell de back'ard breeze

Tells de folks we‘ s on de track.

Coons is a-ramblin’ an’‘ possums is out;

Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail!

Watch him now — steady,— min’ — what you‘ s about,

Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!

Listen to him ba'kin now!

Dat means bus'ness, sho‘ s you bo'n;

Ef he's struck de scent I‘ low

Dat ere‘ possum's sholy gone.

Knowed dat dog fu’ fo'teen yeahs,

An’ I nevah seed him fail

Wen he sot dem flappin’ eahs

An’ went off upon a trail.

Run, Mistah‘ Possum, an’ run, Mistah Coon,

No place is safe fu’ yo’ ramblin’ to-night;

Mas’ gin’ de lantu'n an’ God gin de moon,

An’ a long hunt gins a good appetite.

Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change?

Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res’.

Dat ere soun’ ai n't nothin’ strange,—

Dat dog's talked his level bes’.

Somep'n’‘ s treed, I know de soun’.

Dah now,— wha‘ d I tell you? see!

Dat ere dog done run him down;

Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.

Ah, Mistah‘ Possum, we got you at las’ —

Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun’;

Fros’ an’ de‘ simmons has made you grow fas’,—

Wo n't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!