Classic Poem

Away down yonder in the Wahee Mountains,
Where folks don't know about books nor countin's,
There lived a Zeke, an old galoot,
And all he knew was how to shoot.
He had a girl and he would always tell 'er
Not to monkey with a city feller;
The city feller came without fail
And old Zeke shot him on the Oregon Trail.

On the Oregon Trail, that's where he shot 'im;
On the Oregon Trail, they came down and got 'im.
The city feller came without fail
And old Zeke shot 'im on the Oregon Trail.

Hezekiah had a lovely daughter,
Never did a thing she hadn't oughter,
She married Zeke and they went alone
Up in the mountains and built a home.
It wasn't long until the stork came flying,
Brought a kid that was always crying.
The poor stork died he grew so frail—
Couldn't stand it on the Oregon Trail.

On the Oregon Trail, that's where they killed 'im.
On the Oregon Trail a tomb they built 'im.
They dug his grave and on it wrote:
“This poor bird was the family goat.”
He carried kids until his back was broke on the Oregon Trail.