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Updated: July 9, 2025
All day for him I ride Over the plains so wide, And on my horn I blow, Just to let him know That Jacob's on his track, And soon will have him back, I look and look all day, And when I'm home I say: He isn't like a mole To dig himself a hole; Them little legs he's got They can't go far, trot, trot, They can't go far, run run, Oh no, it is his fun; I'm sure he's near, He must be here A-skulking round the house Just like a little mouse.
"Now what's all this about?" "I've got the young varmint at last, have I," pants the farmer; "why, they've been a-skulking about my yard and stealing my fowls that's where 'tis; and if I doan't have they flogged for it, every one on 'em, my name ain't Thompson." Holmes looks grave and Diggs's face falls.
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