We cut er fresh green carrot top 'n' put it in fer bait,
Wuz both so sure we'd ketch him 'at we couldn't hardly wait;
Pounded in some stakes each side 'n' made it good 'n' stout;
If Mister Cotton-Tail got in he never could get out.
Tom staid 'ith me till mornin', an' almos' 'fore it wuz light
We run behin' ther shed 'n' foun' our trap all shet up tight;
An' nen I shouted, "Got him!" 'n' Tom threw up his hat--
Blame 'f that ol' rabbit wasn't my Aunt Polly's cat!
"THE COUNTRY, THE COUNTRY!"