Ain't we two the kind of sinners
That they sing of in the old time songs?
In those bloody-minded ballads,
Tellin' tales about the bad men's wrongs...
Just as you destroyed your father,
So a husband's life did I.
Sure, he sat upon a
Took him half a year to die!
And who was it who
placed it where he sat?
like to hear the song they'd make of that!
Listen to that
tongue on her! A fine lad like you ought to go where brave
deeds is appreciated...
Come on along with me to my little log cabin, my boy.
It's just a mile or so up the old dirt road.
Got a big old woodpile,
But no strong young back to split it.
Wouldn't take but a short while
With the powerful blows that you could hit it.
We'll make a cozy fire, and we'll probably get to gabbin', my boy,
Afore we hit the hay in my humble abode.
But sure 'nough, she'll keep out the cold, my little cabin...
Come on along with me.
you how it is at her little log cabin.
Now don't you pay
her no mind, my boy.
She got a roof that
leaks and a swept dirt floor.
Ain't that the homiest kind, my boy?
Bee's nest in the
And the chamberpots a-brimmin'.
Chairs chewed by a field mouse,
And a hedge grown wild for lack of trimmin'.
She'll keep you up all night with her neverendin' blabbin'.
We two got plenty to
And when you douse
the light, she'll be startin' in to snore.
Bed's so durn comfy
you'll pass right out.
She'll saw them logs
So loud you'd think she'd wake up the hogs that's in the parlor.
Go on along—you'll see.
her—come on along!
Another thing that
you ought to know about her cabin...
Come on along with
me to my little log cabin, my boy.
She's offered out that bed to every stranger come this way.
It's just a mile or
so up the old dirt road.
Or stay with her.
You'll soon be wishin' you were
Back in the place you're meant to be...
In my little log
2009 by Peter Mills