We'd fairs in fall and now and then a dance or huskin' bee, Which was the most excitin' things Budd Wilkins ever see, Until, one winter, Skigginsville was all turned upside down By a troupe of real play actors a-comin' into town. The court-house it was turned into a theater, that night, And I don't s'pose I'll live to see another sich a sight: I guess that every person who was able fer to go Jest natchelly cut loose fer oncet, and went to see the show. Me and Budd we stood around there all day in the snow, But gosh! it paid us, fer we got seats right in the second row! Well, the brass band played a tune or two, and then the play begun, And 'twa'n't long 'fore the villain had the hero on the run. Say, talk about your purty girls with sweet, confidin' ways-- I never see the equal yit, in all o' my born days. Of that there brave young heroine, so clingin' and so mild, And jest as innocent as if she'd been a little child. I most forgot to say that Budd stood six feet in his socks, As brave as any lion, too, and stronger than an ox! But there never was a man, I'll bet, that had a softer heart, And he was always sure to take the weaker person's part. Budd, he fell dead in love right off with that there purty girl, And I suppose the feller's brain was in a fearful whirl, Fer there he set and gazed at her, and when she sighed he sighed, And when she hid her face and sobbed, he actually cried. He clinched his fists and ground his teeth when the villain laid his plot And said out loud he'd like to kill the rogue right on the spot, And when the hero helped the girl, Budd up and yelled "Hooray!" He'd clean fergot the whole blame thing was nothing but a play. At last the villain trapped the girl, that sweet confidin' child, And when she cried for help, why I'll admit that I was riled; The hero couldn't do a thing, but roll and writhe around And tug and groan because they'd got the poor chap gagged and bound. The maiden cried: "Unhand me now, or, weak girl that I am--" And then Budd Wilkins he jumped up and give his hat a slam, And, quicker'n I can tell it he was up there raisin' Ned, A-rescuin' the maiden and a-punchin' the rogue's head. I can't, somehow, perticklerize concernin' that there row: The whole thing seems a sort of blur as I recall it now-- But I can still remember that there was a fearful thud, With the air chock full of arms and legs and the villain under Budd. I never see a chap so bruised and battered up before As that there villain was when he was picked up from the floor!-- The show? Oh, it was busted, and they put poor Budd in jail, And kept him there all night, because I couldn't go his bail.