• 



Another year has rolled around, and I'm kinder sorter thinkin', 

 As I sit beside the camp fire, a winkin' and a blinkin', 

 And a wonderin' if another year will find me sittin' here, 

 As I've been a doin' ev'ry fall nigh on to thirty year. 



f " ^ •*> I was late a comin' in t'night, and one reason as you'll see, 



; "« Is that big bunch o' mallards there, a hanging t' the tree ; 



And when comin' through the swail, from shooting on ther 

 - , , pass, 



/ I struck a log and went clean over, head first in the grass — 



And busted my suspenders, n' filled the gun with dirt, 

 N' skinned my nose, n' barked 'r shin and tore a bran new 



shirt. 

 But now all's snug about the camp an' I'm feelin' pretty 



smilin'. 

 As I sit and smoke ther cob while the kittle's on 'r bilin'. 



N' the embers from the logs are glowin' and 'r fallin', 

 N' the night wind through the trees is a whisperin' 



and a callin' ; 

 And the leaves come tickin', tackin', fallin' softly 



down 

 TV join in Jack Frost's quiltin' a coverin' o' the 



groun'. 



Two trees near by like brothers grow, their limbs 

 locked in together, 



N' they make a sorter fiddlin' sound a rubbin' on each 

 other, 



It's all music to my ears— the hootin' o' the owls 



An' the cracklin' o' the fire, and the wolf's long, lone- 

 some howls. 



But the hour is gettin' late and the fire is gettin' low, 

 So I'll turn in 'side my partner who was snorin' long 



ago. 

 It's still the same old story, if I'm in it and alive, 

 I calkerlate to be here, 'bout this time in ninety-five. 



