The Ballad Of Hunneman Two

Now this is the story of Hunneman Two,

Old Hunneman Two from Andover town;

--A tub with the likeliest, heftiest crew That ever hoorayed in a hot break-’er-down. And I’ll give you the facts, for if any one knows It’s me who was Hunneman’s foreman of hose:

Ev’ry feller we mustered was over six feet And the gang that we brought to a fireman’s meet

They never was licked and they never was downed,

And a crowd up against us would likely get drowned.

Ev’ry man in the forty was six feet and more And their shirts was the reddest that ever men wore;

Whenever they hollered they’d jump up a yard And when they came down they came dreffully hard.

Ev’ry man had a trumpet and some of them tew

--And’twas safest to plug up your ears when they blew.

They’d ballast the tub with a cart-load of stone And stuff her with sody ontil she would groan Then they’d spit on their fists and would gaffle that beam

And whoop fa, la larry, my jinks what a stream!

’Twas h’ist on the beam till your eyeballs gog- gled,

Hump-jump-pump!

Give her the tar till her old sides woggled, Pump-jump-hump!

Down with the beam till it sartin would seem

We were drowndin’ the sun in a hissin’, white stream.

Oh, there never was anything up with the crew

That buckled the beam of old Hunneman Two.

One time we were playin’ at Andover fair

And old Uncle Boomer drove up with his mare.

She cocked up an eye for to see the stream sail

Then she up with her ears and her head and her tail;

And whoosh! she was off down the Bunganuck road

At as lively a clip as a mare ever hoed.

Now the Bunganuck road it was right straight away,

And jest for a hector we started to play

Right over the tailboard, right into his team,

And we followed him up with old Hunneman’s stream.

We followed him one mile, we followed him tew

With the foreman a-swearin’ and all of the crew

A-breakin’ her down and a-crackin’ their heels

Till we lifted her plum fair and square off the wheels.

We followed him three miles, we followed him four

--If he hadn’t shied off we’d a-followed him more.

Old Boomer got rheumatiz out of wet feet

For we kept his old waggin full, clear to the seat.

’Twas h’ist on the beam till your eyeballs gog- gled,

Pump-jump-hump!

Give her the tar till her old sides woggled, Hump-jump-pump!

Down with the beam till it sartin would seem

We were drownin’ the sun in a hissin’ white stream.

Oh, there never was anything up with the crew

That buckled the beam of old Hunneman Two.