Goin' with it, durn my whiskers!

Hind wheels riz plumb off the ground;

Goin' 'gainst it, you and me, dear,

Had to push the hosses down.

9  

Now and then a raindrop whistled

Like a bullet past my head;

And I hollered out to you, dear,

"Scrooch down in the wagon bed."

Then they come as big as hen eggs;

Struck the hosses stinging raps,

Till the frightened, tremblin' critters

Leaped beneath the angry slaps.

Lord a'mighty, how they scampered!

While I gripped the lines in tight,

As the wagon box sailed upward

Like a mighty wind-borne kite.

Down below us ran the hosses,

While we floated through the air,

But through all that roaring shakeup,

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