If I'd'a closed my eyes and wished, I wouldn't switch a whisker of our rig. Drift a bit, fish a bit. Drift, fish. A sunset catfish came along as big.... And we're still hopin' and hoppin' along, Although the free branch of the Ohio Has fair gone by like a faded song, And what we're up to we don't rightly know. Springtime's 'bout down to the last dribble; Clouds keep the moon from breaking out, And Jim's always goin' on about the Bible, All them Pharaoh's men and whatnot. It's a good raft, by Moses, tho' stolen-- Rudder-steady under drifting skies; All the wisdom of old Solomon Writ in winking fireflies.