Down The River

I’VE done with joys an’ misery, An’ why should I repine? There’s no one knows the past but me An’ that ol’ dog o’ mine. We camp an’ walk an’ camp an’ walk, An’ find it fairly good; He can do anything but talk, An’ he wouldn’t if he could. We sits an’ thinks beside the fire, With all the stars a-shine, An’ no one knows our thoughts but me An’ that there dog o’ mine. We has our Johnny-cake an’ “scrag,” An’ finds ’em fairly good; He can do anything but talk, An’ he wouldn’t if he could. He gets a ’possum now an’ then, I cooks it on the fire; He has his water, me my tea— What more could we desire? He gets a rabbit when he likes, We finds it pretty good; He can do anything but talk, An’ he wouldn’t if he could. I has me smoke, he has his rest, When sunset’s gettin’ dim; An’ if I do get drunk at times, It’s all the same to him. So long’s he’s got me swag to mind, He thinks that times is good; He can do anything but talk, An’ he wouldn’t if he could. He gets his tucker from the cook, For cook is good to him, An’ when I sobers up a bit, He goes an’ has a swim. He likes the rivers where I fish, An’ all the world is good; He can do anything but talk, An’ he wouldn’t if he could.