The Backwoodsman
Oh it's well I do remember the year of forty-five, I think myself quite lucky to find myself alive. I harnessed up my horses my business to pursue, And I went a-hauling white pines as I often used to do. Now I only hauled out one load, I should have hauled out four, I went down to Omemee and I could not haul no more. The tavern being open, good liquor flowing free, And I hadn't finished one glass and another was poured for me. Now I met with an acquaintance, and I dare not tell his name, He was going to a dance and I thought I'd do the same. He was going to a dance where the fiddle was sweetly played, And the boys and girls all danced till the breaking of the day. So I put me saddle up on me arm and headed for the barn To saddle up my gray nag, not meaning any harm. I saddled up my gray nag and rode away so still And I never drew a long breath till I came to Downeyville. By the time I got to Downeyville the night was far advanced, I got up on the floor for to have a little dance. The fiddler he was rested, his arm being stout and strong, Played the reels of old Ireland for four hours long. Now the foreman followed after me, I've heard the people say. He must have had a pilot or he'd never have found the way. He looked in every keyhole that he could see a light Till his old gray locks were wet with the dew of the night.