Whilst wandering with Sally
            I met the dusty miller.
He lives up Hogan's alley
            Not far from Unadilla.
            We motored to that thriller
The valley of Black Scrub.
            My head began to spin
            I drank a glass of gin
            And then I tumbled in
The Susquehanna tub.

The eastern breeze don't seem to please
            Whirling about the sibyl.
The fortune teller quite a yeller
            Screeches, "Ich kabibble?"

If you go to Unadilla
Keep away from Jack the miller
Lest he take you to that thriller
            To the valley of Black Scrub
Where each horse kicks every mare
Where each rabbit bites each hare
Seeking supremacy down there
            Deep in the mystic tub.

The Sibyl spake "Make no mistake
            I'm shaky at the knees.
My sword I'll sell, oh Hell oh Hell,
            Where is the western breeze?"

The gander and his wife the goose—
See them trying to break loose.
Diving thru the leaky sluice
            Into the pit of Scrub.
See the wise man and the fool
See each rabbit bite each mule
Bathing in that swimming pool
            The Susquehanna tub.

"Sour wine is a lucky sign"
            (This was the sibyl's cry)
"But—wind from the west is far far best
            Verily so say I."

Climbing up the hickory tree
            Sally the silly fool
Waving her hand to you and me
            Flings herself in the pool.
Down she sinks in the sticky mess
            Close to the squirming chub
Mixed with the fragrant water cress
            Deep in the mystic tub.

The Sibyl fried the fish. We cried
            "We know a nice go-getter."
The Sibyl said, "You're off your head
            The western breeze is better."

Hark! we hear the thunder rumble
Silly Sally see her stumble
While the bunch of bathers grumble
            As their skin they rub
Thumping bumping in a jumble
Kicking scratching as they tumble.
Silly Sally, see her crumble
            Dead in that sticky scrub
            The Susquehanna tub.

The Sibyl bowed her head, the crowd
            Shook like a twisting snake.
Poor silly Sally from the alley
            Cannot win the cake.

The evil eye can't terrify
            The valley of Black Scrub,
Forevermore I must adore
            The Susquehanna tub.

NOTE—High up on the hill, just above the Tub there is a small plateau on which stands a beautiful morgue where the coroner sits daily during the summer season. Regarding the Sibyl, take my advice, have no dealings with fortune tellers. Also shake all ghost mediums. Table tappers are rather undesirable. I myself believe in the Devil, and my advice is, leave him alone. I have seen him.—RICHARD GRIFFIN.

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