I WUD knot dye in wintur, When whiski punchez flo; When pooty galls air skatin' O'er fealds ov ice an' sno; When sassidge-meet is phrying, And hickrie knuts is thick; Owe! who kud think of dighing, Or even gettin' sick? I wud knot dye in springtime, And miss the turnup greens, And the pooty song ov the leetle fraugs, And the ski-lark's airly screams. When burds begin thare wobbling, And taters 'gin to sprout, When turkies go a-gobblering, I wud knot then peg out. I wud knot dye in summer, And leave the gard'n sass, The roasted lam, and buttermilk, The kool plase in the grass; I wud knot dye in summer, When everything's so hot, And leave the whiski jew-lips -- Owe know! Ide ruther knott. I wud knot dye in ortum, With peeches fitt fur eating, When the wavy corn is gettin' wripe, An' Kandidates is treating; Phor these and other wreasons Ide knot dye in the fall, And -- sinse I've thort it over -- I wud knot dye at all. |