  There was a man named Oglethorpe, Who didn't like old England's laws; So he got into his little ship, And sailed it straight across. He swung around Carolina's point And landed at a Bluff; And when he found the soil so rich, He said—"tis good enough." He named the place Savannah, And then laid off a town, You ought to seed the taters, That grew thar in the ground. He planted cotton, rice and corn, And then a patch of backer: That was the first beginning, Of the Real Georgia Cracker. Then he got some mules and plows, And sat the boys to hoeing; Ever since they stirred the soil, The Georgia Cracker has been growing. But now—where once those taters grew, Mount twenty tall church steeples; And the place he named Savannah, Dwell nigh a hundred thousand people. Will stand a living factor; While angels guard it overhead, God bless the Georgia Cracker. In Chippewa his monument, Jesup, Ga. —L. G. Lucas. |
|
