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The State of Arkansaw,
I bought me a quart of whiskey my misery to thaw, I got as drunk as a biled owl when I left for old Arkansaw.
I landed in Ft. Smith one sultry Sunday afternoon, It was in the month of May, the early month of June, Up stepped a walking skeleton with a long and lantern jaw, Invited me to his hotel, " The best in Arkansaw,"
I followed my conductor into his dwelling place; Poverty were depictured in his melancholy face. His bread it was corn dodger, his beef I could :ioC
chaw; This was the kind of hash they fed me in the State
I started off next morning to catch the morning train, He says to me, " You'd better work, for I have some
land to drain. I'll pay you fifty cents a day, your board, washing,
and all,— You'll find yourself a different man when you leave
I worked six weeks for the son of a gun, Jesse Herring was his name,
He was six foot seven in his stocking feet and tallen than any crane;