All things were dark and dismal, It was early in thewinter.
          I had tended to the cattle in the shed,
Had chopped the kindling wood and got a nasty little splinter
          In my left hand, pinky winky, how it bled!
          I yanked the splinter out, and then
          Ran quickly to my cosy den.

I sat before the fire, bowed my head, and took to thinking
          And blinking, I was in a cosmic state.
A bowl of Jersey lightning on the table kept me drinking,
          Until I felt a buzzing in my pate.
          Sweet visions of the past came back,
          When suddenly I felt a whack.

My head was roughly bumped, my wit completely trumped by
          A dragon fly so sly, I tired ran.
My weary gullet gulped; great thunder, I was thumped by
          The mule that often kicked the hired man.
          When biff! sights of my dear old home
          Throughout my vision seemed to roam.

The hawthorn bush neglected, withers quite away uncared
          For; the water lily nestles in the lake;
The handle of the pump is broken, ne'er to be repaired,
          And the peddler is honest—not a fake.
He rubbed my sore head with a cake
Of ointment, till it squelched the ache.

I see my white-haired mother and her dear old bunch of keys;
          She personally does the weekly wash.
The honey suckles cluster, while the extra busy bees
          Attack the budding blossom on the squash.
          Inside the house the scene is just like when,
          So many years ago, I plucked the hen.

There's one little treasure here I ever prize, oh my!
          Far more than all the wealth beneath the sea,
That small leather riding whip dear mother swung on high
          While punishing my sister Ruth and me.
          The whip now hangs upon its peg
          Above the Jersey lightning keg.

The little bunnies bubble with delight and nibble stubble,
          The ancient goat kicks at the pretty kid.
The children sweetly smile and howl with glee. Meanwhile
          The guinea-hen eats up the katydid.
          All this by second sight I see,
          Oh rapture wonderful, he! he!

The Irish stew is ready, it is time to draw the tea,
The woodman takes the wedge to split the log;
Out at the pig pen near the barn a tragedy I see;
          They use a clam shell when they scrape the hog.
          They cut its liver out, and poke
          It up upon a shelf to smoke.

While dreaming, shrill I heard the piping of a bird.
          I then awoke; I yelled! Oh, what a bite!
I felt a sudden shocking, 'twas something in my stocking,
I took the stocking off; oh what a plight!
          Oh see that big red patch,
          How I did claw and scratch.

I'd been giving board and lodging
To a bug who had been dodging
And nipping, sipping, clipping, playing tag.
I could not help but scream,
I'd been bitten in my dream,
The bug took mean advantage of my jag.

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