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The Little Old Sod Shanty |
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My clothes are plastered o'er with dough, I'm lookÂing like a fright,
And everything is scattered round the room,
But I wouldn't give the freedom that I have out in the West
For the table of the Eastern man's old home.
Still, I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity
on me take And relieve me from the mess that I am in; The angel, how I'd bless her if this her home she'd
make In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
And we would make our fortunes on the prairies of
the West, Just as happy as two lovers we'd remain; We'd forget the trials and troubles we endured at
the first In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
And if fate should bless us with now and then an,
heir To cheer our hearts with honest pride of fame, Oh, then we'd be contented for the toil that we had
spent In the little old sod shanty on our claim.
When time enough had lapsed and all those little brats
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