His stove wood in. Remember yet
How buckskin stretches when it’s wet?
One day when he was haulin’ wood,
(A dead log that was dry and good)
One cloudy day, it started in
To rainin’ like the very sin.
Well, Pink-eye pounded on the ox
And beat it over roads and rocks
To camp. He landed there all right
And turned around—no log in sight!
But down the road, around the bend,
Those tugs were stretchin’ without end.
Well, Pink-eye he goes in to eat.
The sun comes out with lots of heat.
It dries the buckskin that was damp
And hauls the log right into camp!
That was a pretty lucky crew
And yet we had some hard luck, too.
You’ve heard of Phalen, double-jawed?
He had two sets of teeth that sawed
Through almost anything. One night
He sure did use his molars right.
While walkin’ in his sleep he hit
The filer’s rack and, after it,
Then with the stone-trough he collides—
Which makes him sore, and mad besides.
