Classic Poem

I'm looking mighty seedy while holding down my claim,
My victuals are not always of the best,
And the mice play shyly round me as I nestle down to rest
In that little old sod shanty on the claim.

The hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass,
The board roof lets the howling blizzard in,
And I hear the hungry coyote as he slinks up through the grass
'Round that little old sod shanty on my claim.

When I left my Eastern home a bachelor oh so gay,
To wend my way up in this (world to) wealth and fame,
Whoever thought I'd be so low as to burning twisted hay
In that little old sod shanty on my claim.

The hinges are of leather and the windows have no pane,
The board roof lets the howling blizzard in,
And I hear the hungry coyote as he prowls up through the grass
'Round that little old sod shanty on the claim.

I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity on me take
And relieve me from this mess that I am in;
The angel, how I'd bless her if this her home she'd make
In that little old sod shanty on my claim.

And if kind fate should bless us with now and then a heir,
To cheer our hearts in honest pride and fame,
Oh, then we'd be contented for the toil that we had spent
In that little old sod shanty on my claim.

Where the hinges are of leather and the windows have no pane,
The board roof lets the howling blizzard in,
And I hear the hungry coyote as he slinks up through the grass,
'Round that little old sod shanty on the claim.