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,