<p class="tit-song">A MORMON SONG <span class="pagenum"><SPAN id="page182" name="page182"></SPAN>(p. 182)</span></p>
<p>I used to live on Cottonwood and owned a little farm,<br/>
I was called upon a mission that gave me much alarm;<br/>
The reason that they called me, I'm sure I do not know.<br/>
But to hoe the cane and cotton, straightway I must go.</p>
<p>I yoked up Jim and Baldy, all ready for the start;<br/>
To leave my farm and garden, it almost broke my heart;<br/>
But at last we got started, I cast a look behind,<br/>
For the sand and rocks of Dixie were running through my mind.</p>
<p>Now, when we got to Black Ridge, my wagon it broke down,<br/>
And I, being no carpenter and forty miles from town,—<br/>
I cut a clumsy cedar and rigged an awkward slide,<br/>
But the wagon ran so heavy poor Betsy couldn't ride.</p>
<p>While Betsy was out walking I told her to take care,<br/>
When all of a sudden she struck a prickly pear,<br/>
Then she began to hollow as loud as she could bawl,—<br/>
If I were back in Cottonwood, I wouldn't go at all.</p>
<p>Now, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN id="page183" name="page183"></SPAN>(p. 183)</span> when we got to Sand Ridge, we couldn't go at all,<br/>
Old Jim and old Baldy began to puff and loll,<br/>
I cussed and swore a little, for I couldn't make the route,<br/>
For the team and I and Betsy were all of us played out.</p>
<p>At length we got to Washington; I thought we'd stay a while<br/>
To see if the flowers would make their virgin smile,<br/>
But I was much mistaken, for when we went away<br/>
The red hills of September were just the same in May.</p>
<p>It is so very dreary, there's nothing here to cheer,<br/>
But old pathetic sermons we very often hear;<br/>
They preach them by the dozens and prove them by the book,<br/>
But I'd sooner have a roasting-ear and stay at home and cook.</p>
<p>I am so awful weary I'm sure I'm almost dead;<br/>
'Tis six long weeks last Sunday since I have tasted bread;<br/>
Of turnip-tops and lucerne greens I've had enough to eat,<br/>
But I'd like to change my diet to buckwheat cakes and meat.</p>
<p>I <span class="pagenum"><SPAN id="page184" name="page184"></SPAN>(p. 184)</span> had to sell my wagon for sorghum seed and bread;<br/>
Old Jim and old Baldy have long since been dead.<br/>
There's no one left but me and Bet to hoe the cotton tree,—<br/>
God pity any Mormon that attempts to follow me!</p>
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