Down The River

Ive done with joys an misery,     An why should I repine?     Theres 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 wouldnt 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 wouldnt 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 wouldnt if he could.     I has me smoke, he has his rest,     When sunsets gettin dim;     An if I do get drunk at times,     Its all the same to him.     So longs hes got me swag to mind,     He thinks that times is good;     He can do anything but talk,     An he wouldnt 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 wouldnt if he could.