IT wuz down in Punkin Centre, I believe in eighty-nine, We had some doin's at the meetin' house, That we thought wuz purty fine;
It wuz a great occasion, The choir, led by Sister Morgan, Had called us thar to witness The unveilin' of the organ.
In order fer to git it We'd bin savin' here and there, Lookin' forward to the time When we'd have music fer to spare, And as the time it had arrived, And the organ had cum, too, We had all of us assembled thar To hear what the thing could do.
Wall, it wuz a gorgeous instrument, In a handsome walnut case, And thar wuz expectation Pictured out on every face;
Then when Deacon Witherspoon Had led us all in prayer, The congregation all stood up And Old Hundred rent the air.
Jist then the doin's took a turn, Though I'm ashamed to say it, We found that old Jim Lawson Wuz the only one could play it;
But Jim, the poor old feller, Had one besettin' sin, A fondness fer hard cider Which he'd bin indulgin' in.
But he sot down at that organ, Planked his feet upon the pedals, And he showed us he could play it Though he hadn't any medals;
He dwelt upon the treble And he flirted with the base, He almost made that organ Jump right out of its case.
Wall, the cider got in old Jim's head And in his fingers, too, So he played some dancin' music And old Yankee Doodle Doo;
He shocked old Deacon Witherspoon And scared poor Sister Morgan, And jist busted up the meetin' At the unveilin' of the organ.
