Classic Poem

Take me back to the Cumberland Mountains,
I don't like Lynchburg no more;
I want to go home to our old, log cabin,
Old hens a-cluckin' all 'round the door.
I want to hear old dog Tray's — bow-wow-wow, —
And the — boo-woo-woo — of our hound dog.
The — cluck-cluck-cluck — of the hens a-settin'
And the — ugh-ugh-ugh — of the razor-back hog.

I miss Pap a-see-sawin' on his fiddle,
Bare feet a-scrapin' on the cabin floor;
And old Uncle Mose a-tunin' on his banjer;
I ain't goin' back to town no more.
I want to hear Mammy's old red rooster,
With his — cock-a-doodle-doodle-doodle-doo —
The — quack-quack-quack — of the old white gander
And the old black cow with her — moo-moo-moo. —

I want to hear the sway-backed nag in the stable
With her — whee-whee-whee — in the early fall;
The — baa-a-aa — of the pet sheep a-blatin',
He's a-buttin' his head on the cabin wall.
I miss the old quail's — bob-white — from the corn field,
I want to hear Mammy a-grittin' corn;
I want to go back to the Cumberland Mountains,
To the old log house where I was born.

Give me our shack on the side of the mountain;
Hey dum a diddle dum a day, diddle dum a day;
Give me my coon dog and my fiddle,
Roosters a-crowin' at the break of day.
Hoe cake bakin' in the ashes,
Plenty enough for old dog Tray,
Bacon a-fryin' and sorgham 'lasses,
Hey dum a diddle dum a day.

Ten Broeck was a race horse
As slick as any mole;
Diamond in the forehead,
Shines like a diamond and gold.

Ain't that skippin' and a-flyin' my love,
Ain't that skippin' and a-flyin'?

Ten Broeck was a race horse,
He wore a shingled mane;
He run all 'round the race track,
And he beat that Nashville train.