ond; Where folks complain uv bein' poor, because their money's lent Out West on farms 'nd railroads at the rate uv ten per cent; Where we ust to spark the Baker girls a-comin' home from choir, Or a-settin' namin' apples round the roarin' kitchen fire; Where we had to go to meetin' at least three times a week, And our mothers learnt us good religious Dr. Watts to speak; And where our grandmas sleep their sleep--God rest their souls, I say; And God bless yours, ef you're that John, "John Smith, U. S. A."
Or, mebbe, Col. Smith, yo' are the gentleman I know
In the country whar the finest Democrats 'nd hosses grow; Whar the ladies are all beautiful, an' whar the crap of cawn Is utilized for Burbon, and true awters are bawn.
You've ren for jedge, and killed yore man, and bet on Proctor Knott; Yore heart is full of chivalry, yore skin is full of shot; And I disremember whar I've met with gentlemen so true
As yo' all in Kaintucky, whar blood an' grass are blue,
Whar a niggah with a ballot is th