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Win' it's in a south,
Kin' a cloudy in a sky,
Good time to huntin'
Spec' I go by um by.

Looks kin' a smoky
All 'roun a edge,
Spec' could fin' it, rabbit,
Down tha' 'long a hedge

'Way down a Sycamo',
Wha' that ridge look blue,
You could fin' it buck o' doe,
Oh, fifty years 'go.

An' 'way cross that valley,
Wha' that timba thicken,
Early in a mornin'
Lots a pra'rie chicken.

Ova' that long ridge,
Wha' sky seem kin' a murky,
You could hear 'em callin'
Plenty big wil' turkey.

Duck, down on Gran' Riva'
Flyin' looks like cloud,
Sometime you could heard 'im,
He's quack plenty loud.

Sometime come wil' pige'un,
He's fly two three day,
Must a be fo' milli'un
'Fo He's all gon 'way.

Oh, lots a games them days,
You could prit' nea' grab it.
Now, can jus' go down a road
An' mebbe so fin' rabbit.