The pot is bubbling over.
The kettles turning black;
The bees are making honey,
An’ the boys is sittin’ back
“High treason,” shouts the Colonel.
“The bad one got away.”
Who tol’ ya that sad story?
Muss be that teacher, Mister Gray.
“Come back to Shallow Harbor,”
yelled the captain to his mate.
“We’ve got a lot a fishin’ yet,”
he added, “Don’t be late.”
Duck down to miss the branches,
Duck down to see the ground,
Duck down to put the little boy
beneath the hallowed mound.