Tek a cool night, good an’ cleah, Skiff o’ snow upon de groun’; Jes’‘ bout fall-time o’ de yeah W'en de leaves is dry an brown;
Tek a dog an’ tek a axe, Tek a lantu'n in yo’ han’, Step light whah de switches cracks, Fu’ dey‘ s huntin’ in de lan’.
Down thoo de valleys an’ ovah de hills, Into de woods whah de‘ simmon-tree grows, Wakin’ an’ skeerin’ de po’ whippo'wills, Huntin’ fu’ coon an’ fu’‘ possum we goes.
Blow dat ho'n dah loud an’ strong, Call de dogs an’ da'kies neah; Mek its music cleah an’ long, So de folks at home kin hyeah.
Blow it twell de hills an’ trees Sen's de echoes tumblin’ back; Blow it twell de back'ard breeze Tells de folks we‘ s on de track.
Coons is a-ramblin’ an’‘ possums is out; Look at dat dog; you could set on his tail! Watch him now — steady,— min’ — what you‘ s about, Bless me, dat animal's got on de trail!
Listen to him ba'kin now! Dat means bus'ness, sho‘ s you bo'n; Ef he's struck de scent I‘ low Dat ere‘ possum's sholy gone.
Knowed dat dog fu’ fo'teen yeahs, An’ I nevah seed him fail Wen he sot dem flappin’ eahs An’ went off upon a trail.
Run, Mistah‘ Possum, an’ run, Mistah Coon, No place is safe fu’ yo’ ramblin’ to-night; Mas’ gin’ de lantu'n an’ God gin de moon, An’ a long hunt gins a good appetite.
Look hyeah, folks, you hyeah dat change? Dat ba'k is sha'per dan de res’. Dat ere soun’ ai n't nothin’ strange,— Dat dog's talked his level bes’.
Somep'n’‘ s treed, I know de soun’. Dah now,— wha‘ d I tell you? see! Dat ere dog done run him down; Come hyeah, he'p cut down dis tree.
Ah, Mistah‘ Possum, we got you at las’ — Need n't play daid, laying dah on de groun’; Fros’ an’ de‘ simmons has made you grow fas’,— Wo n't he be fine when he's roasted up brown!
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