I was on the drive in sixty, working under Silver Jack.
Which the same is now in Jackson and ain't soon expected back.
And there was a chap among us by the name of Robert Waite
Who was kinder slick and tonguey—I guess he were a graduate.
Bob could gab on any subject from the Bible down to Hoyle
And his words flowed out so easy just as smooth and slick as oil.
He was what they call a “skeptic” and he loved to sit and weave
High-falutin' words together saying what he didn't believe.
One day as we were waiting for a flood to clear the ground,
We all sat smoking niggerhead and hearing Bob expound:
Hell, he said, was a humbug, and he proved as clear as day
That the Bible was a fable: we allowed it looked that way.
As for miracles and such-like, 'twas more than he could stand.
And for Him they called the Savior. He was just a common man.
“You're a liar!” shouted someone, “and you've got to take that back!”
Then everybody started, 'twas the voice of Silver Jack.
Jack clicked his fists together and he shucked his coat and cried,
“'Twas by that th'ar religion my mother lived and died.
And although I haven't always used the Lord exactly right,
When I hear a chump abuse Him he must eat his words or fight.”
Now Bob he warn't no coward and he answered bold and free.
“Stack your duds and cut your capers, for you'll find no flies on me.”
And they fit for forty minutes and the boys would hoot and cheer,
When Jack choked up a tooth or two and Bob he lost an ear.
At last Jack got Bob under and he slugged him onct or twict,
Then Bob finally admitted the divinity of Christ.
Still Jack kept reasoning with him till the cuss begun to yell,
And allowed he'd been mistaken in his views concerning Hell!
Thus that controversy ended and they riz up from the ground,
And someone found a bottle and kindly passed it round;
And we drank to Jack's Religion in a quiet sort of way,
So the spread of infidelity was checked in camp that day.
Which the same is now in Jackson and ain't soon expected back.
And there was a chap among us by the name of Robert Waite
Who was kinder slick and tonguey—I guess he were a graduate.
Bob could gab on any subject from the Bible down to Hoyle
And his words flowed out so easy just as smooth and slick as oil.
He was what they call a “skeptic” and he loved to sit and weave
High-falutin' words together saying what he didn't believe.
One day as we were waiting for a flood to clear the ground,
We all sat smoking niggerhead and hearing Bob expound:
Hell, he said, was a humbug, and he proved as clear as day
That the Bible was a fable: we allowed it looked that way.
As for miracles and such-like, 'twas more than he could stand.
And for Him they called the Savior. He was just a common man.
“You're a liar!” shouted someone, “and you've got to take that back!”
Then everybody started, 'twas the voice of Silver Jack.
Jack clicked his fists together and he shucked his coat and cried,
“'Twas by that th'ar religion my mother lived and died.
And although I haven't always used the Lord exactly right,
When I hear a chump abuse Him he must eat his words or fight.”
Now Bob he warn't no coward and he answered bold and free.
“Stack your duds and cut your capers, for you'll find no flies on me.”
And they fit for forty minutes and the boys would hoot and cheer,
When Jack choked up a tooth or two and Bob he lost an ear.
At last Jack got Bob under and he slugged him onct or twict,
Then Bob finally admitted the divinity of Christ.
Still Jack kept reasoning with him till the cuss begun to yell,
And allowed he'd been mistaken in his views concerning Hell!
Thus that controversy ended and they riz up from the ground,
And someone found a bottle and kindly passed it round;
And we drank to Jack's Religion in a quiet sort of way,
So the spread of infidelity was checked in camp that day.