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A Mormon Song
Now, when we got to Sand Ridge, we couldn't go at
all, Old Jim and old Baldy began to puff and loll, I cussed and swore a little, for I couldn't make the
route, For the team and I and Betsy were all of us played
out.
At length we got to Washington; I thought we'd
stay a while To see if the flowers would make their virgin smile, But I was much mistaken, for when we went away The red hills of September were just the same in
May.
It is so very dreary, there's nothing here to cheer, But old pathetic sermons we very often hear; They preach them by the dozens and prove them by
the book, But I'd sooner have a roasting-ear and stay at home
and cook.
I am so awful weary I'm sure I'm almost dead; 'Tis six long weeks last Sunday since I have tasted
bread; Of turnip-tops and lucerne greens I've had enough
to eat, But I'd like to change my diet to buckwheat cakea
and meat. |
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