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AMERICAN BALLADS AND SONGS 165
THE LITTLE OLD SOD SHANTY ON THE CLAIM
I am looking rather seedy now,
While holding down my claim,
And my victuals are not always, served the best;
And the mice play slyly round me,
As I nestle down to sleep
In my little old sod shanty in the West.
The hinges are of leather, and the windows have
no glass While the board roof lets the howling blizzard in, And I hear the hungry coyote As he sneaks up through the grass Around the little old sod shanty on my claim.
Yet I rather like the novelty of living in this way,
Though my bill of fare is always rather tame,
But I'm as happy as a clam
On this land of Uncle Sam's,
In my little old sod shanty on my claim.
But when I left my Eastern home, a bachelor so gay,
To try to win my way to wealth and fame,
I little thought that I'd come down to burning twisted
hay In my little old sod shanty on my claim.