for two.
I’ve a billy, and a pint pot, and a broken-handled cup,
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

Chorus

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

Faith, the table is not made of wood, as many you have seen—
For if I had one half so good, I’d think myself serene—
’Tis only an old sheet of bark—God knows when it was cut—
It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.

Chorus

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.

And of furniture, there’s no such thing, ’twas never in the
place,
Except the stool I sit upon—and that’s an old gin case.
It does us for a safe as well, but you must keep it shut,
Or the flies would make it canter round the old hark hut.

Chorus

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
Or the flies would make it canter round the old bark
hut.