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BLUE GRASS BALLADS
THE KENTUCKIAN'S LAMENT.
I useter live in old Kaintuck some forty year ago, An' come back here again, to stop, a week er
two, er mo', But now I'm goin' back out West, an' stay thar
too, my son, 'Kase I don't like the changes that the times has
gone an' done.
Thar useter be a little crick a 'runnin' 'neath this
hill, An' furder down thar useter stan' a monst'ous
fine old mill; I've waded in that little crick, an' fished fur min-
ners thar, An' watched the mus'rats divin' in the water
fresh an' clar.
I useter ride a grist to mill—a sack er Injun
cawn— Jis' many a time, in them old days, so long 'fo'
you was bawn; An' me an' all the yuther boys—in winter time,
you know— Was parchin' cawn, an' swappin' lies ontell we
had to go.