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.