“Oh, Mister Coon! oh, Mister Coon,
Oh, take them dirty paws out’n the moon.
“He looked at Bob, ter wink an’ grin,
An’ then Bob say—‘Ez sure ez sin
I’ll yank ye off’n the aidge o’ that moon,
Though ye air a mos’ surprisin’ coon.’
Bob sicked on Towse—_Towse clomb the tree!_
An’ grabbed the coon right nat’rally.
An’ suddint Bob woke—thar war _no_ raccoon,
Bob wisht he hed lef’ him up thar on the moon.