THE FOGY DAYS and NOW; 



OR, 



THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 



ON SENECA'S BANKS. 



0N Seneca's banks so often fished, 

 Her woods and fields all I wished ; 

 There drove the deer, knew every stand, 

 And chased the fox through brake and strand. 



Have hunted every dell and hill, 

 There slaked my thirst from every rill ; 

 From tree top did the squirrel bring, 

 Shot down the partridge on the wing. 



Have treed the 'possum and the coon, 

 " Larnt" the signs from stars and moon; 

 Before the lark, didn't count it trouble 

 To hunt the roost where turkeys gobble. 



Picked the strings and drawed the bow, 

 To lively tunes fiddle and banjo ; 

 My old tutor darkey, Fiddler Jack, 

 How these memories carry me back. 



Back, back to good old days of yore, 

 Back to the olden days galore ; 

 To that home in the Piedmont land. 

 Where mountain zephyrs softly fanned. 



