| I don’t know much on religion and I ain’t never had no show
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| But I’ve got a middlin' tight grip sir on the handful of things that I know
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| I don’t pan out on the prophets good will and that sort of thing
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| But I believe in God and the angels ever since one night last spring
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| I come into town with some turnips and my little Gabe came along
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| No four year old in this country could beat him for purty and strong
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| Pert and chipper and sassy and always ready to swear and fight
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| And I learned him to chaw tobaccy just to keep his teeth milk white
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| The snow came down like a blanket as I passed by Taget’s store
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| I went in for a jug of molasses and I left the team at the door
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| But they scared at somethin' and started and I heard one little squeal
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| And lickety split over the prairie went team Little Britches and all
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| Yes lickety split over the prairie I was almost froze with skeer
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| But we rousted up some torches and we searched from far and near
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| At last we struck hosses and wagon snowed under a soft white mound
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| Upsot dead beat but of little Gabe no hide nor hair could be found
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| And here all hope soured on me of findin' my little Gabe
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| So I just flopped down on my marrow bones and crotched deep in the snow and
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| prayed
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| By this time the torches was played out and me and Israel Par
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| Went off with some wood to a sheep fold that he said was somewhere thar
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| We found it at last in a little shed where they shut up the lambs at night
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| We looked in and seen them huddled there so warm and sleepy and white
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| And there sot Little Britches and chirped as pert as ever you see
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| I wants a chaw of tobaccy and that’s what’s the matter of me
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| How did he get there? |
| Angels? |
| He could never have walked in that storm
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| They just scooped down and toted him to where it was safe and warm
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| And I think that savin a little child and fodging him to his own
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| Is a dern sight better business than loafin' around the throne |