Classic Poem

I've hunted on the San'Moun' some,—
There's lots o' fun in cranes,
'N' when the geese have fairly come,
It isn't me complains.
It doesn't strike me 's awful slow
To take a skiff, 'n' pull
To Lily Pawnd with—So-'n'-so,
When the moon is good 'n' full.
But if you'd really like to know
Jes' what I druther do:
It's take a Saturday off 'n' go
A-fishun' down the Slough.

Yep, swimmun' on the Tow-head's good;
Or divin' off the pier;
'N' a picnic out to Fletcher's Wood
Can't scarcely come too dear;
When the river's froze up hard 'n' tight,
I don't deny it's nice
To hear your skates, of a frosty night,
A-clinkun' on the ice.
But when it's all been said 'n' done,
Of all I'd like to do,
I guess there isn't any fun
Like fishun' down the Slough.

You hear the saws at Hershey's mill
A-dronun' through the air;
You know you'd ough'-to be there still,
But somehow you don't care.
The pesky turtles grab your bait;
The moss, it snags your line;
You get no supper,—home too late,—
But O! it's mighty fine!
If ever I can have my pick
Of all good things to do,
I'll give 'em all up mighty quick
For one day down the Slough.