LET 'ER BUCK 



There's traveling men from Sweden in this good old 



crew, 

 From Bonnie Scotland, Oregon and Canada, too ; 

 I've listened to their twaddle for a month or more, 

 I never met a bunch of stiffs like this before. 



"Come awa wi' the chorus lads — swing tae it !" 

 Oh, you ought to see this bunch of harvest pippins 



You ought to see, they're surely something fine 



You ought to see this bunch of harvest pippins, 

 This bunch of harvest pippins on this old combine. 



There's Oscar just from Sweden — he's as stout as a mule, 

 Can jig and sew with any man or peddle the bull, 

 He's an independent worker of the world as well, 

 He loves the independence but he says the work is hell. 

 He's got no use for millionaires and wants ter see 

 Them blow up all the grafters in this land of liberty ; 

 Swears he's goin' ter leave this world of graft and strife 

 And stay down in the jungles with the stew-can all his 

 life. 



"The chorus noo, hop to it." 



Oh! Casey Jones, he knew Oscar Nelson, 

 Casey Jones, he knew Oscar fine; 



Casey Jones, he knew Oscar Nelson, 

 When he chased him off of boxcars on the S. P. line. 



Now the next one I'm to mention, — well, the next in line, 

 Is the lad a-punching horses on this big combine 

 The lad that tells the horses just what to do, 

 But the things he tells the horses I can't tell you. 

 It's Pete and Pat and Polly, you come out of the grain, 

 And Buster, there you are again, you're over the chain, 

 Limp and Dude and Lady, you get in and pull, 

 And Paddy, you get over there, you damned old fool. 



130 



