DID I evah tell you, Sonny, Well, a-he! he! he! De trick I played in Dixie, 'Way back in 'sixty-three? I wus wild an' full uv mischief, An' reckless ez could be, In dem rough ole days in Natchez, 'Way back in 'sixty-three. I wus out a-for'gin', Sonny, Well, a-he! he! he! Out a-doin' debbilment, Big man sah, who but me? Had a smackin' big hoss-pistol, 'Long bout dis size, confound! Jest to wa'm dem rebels' jackets, An' make dem jump around. It wus early Sunday mawnin', Well, a-he! he! he! When all de boys wus restin, 'Cept sma'ties, jest like me. I, astride my coal black filly, Cumed a-lopin' up de hill, Whar I halted an' sot lookin', Down Natchez, ca'm an' still. I could see de great big buildins', Well, a-he! he! he! A-r'arin' up tha steeples, Dat seemed a-sassin' me; Den I pulled ole roa'in' Betsey, An' aimed de cupelo. Uv de co'thouse uv de rebels, An' let de triggah go, I wus handy wid a pistol. Well a he! he! he! My han' wus true an' stiddy. Fuh I wus young, you see; So my fust shot toe a slab off, Nigh big ez dat ba'n doe; Dat jest riled me wus dan evah, So, once mo' I let huh go. Den de othah side, I leveled, Well, a-he! he! he! She jest to'e tings to pieces, Ez any eye could see; So den, nuttin but de centah pa't. Uv dat fine cupelo, Was a-standin' now fuh Natchez, De rest wus layin' low. Den I loaded roa'in Betsy, Well, a-he! he! he! An' cracked it on de centah, An' Betsy bawled out, Dee! De centah pa't jest crumbled down, Sho Sonny, yes sah ree! So dat settled wid dat co't-house, 'Way back in 'sixty-three. Den I wheeled, an' spurred my filly; Well, a he! he! he! An' put off fuh de barracks, Ez fas' ez fas' could be: I could heah de bullets whislin', About my very head, Fuh I'd hit de rebel's bee-hive, An' dey answered me wid lead. When at last I reached de barracks, Well, a-he! he! he! De captain standin' 'kimbo, Wus fus man dat I see; "Whut's you doin' to dem rebels? You vagabond, he sed, You raised mo' fuss an' smoke down dah, Dan evah could ole Ned." Den de laugh his eyes 'gin twinklin', Well, a-he! he! he! An' so I bust out laughin', I seed dat I wus free; 'You'll git yo' fill uv fightin', sah, You roscil!' Den, says he, And dat wound up de co't-house scrape, 'Way back in 'sixty-three |