Some folks is so't o' pa'shal to de cattle roun' de
  fa'm,
Ter make a pet ob animals dey find hit so't of balm,
While odders 'fer de poultry stock; de goose, en duck,
  en hen
Is often made de mos' ob by de wisess kind ob men.
Some like de brindle mooley cow 'nd 'low dey hab
  de sense
Ter pear ter know dere massa we'n dey see 'im at de
  fence.
Some like the yearlin' colt; I've raly seed men stand
  aroun'
An pet a hoss all day, 'nd rub his legs en fetlocks
  down;
But gibbin all de animals de faires' kind ob tes'
  I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.

Some pet de mockin' bird en robin redbress' an' de
  linnit;
Some like de gobbler kase he's struttin' roun' mos'
  ebery minute.
Some like de peacock fo' his pride, an' den some like
  de dog,
Whilst odders fo companionship have prefunce fo' de
  hog.
Some fa'mers like de wedder sheep, en some de little
  lam',
De billy-goat, an' nanny-goat, whilst odders 'fer de
  ram.
Some like de little week-ol' calf w'en buntin' roun'
  hits mudder,
An' some folks dey like one thing an' den some folks
  like anudder;
But 'f all de stock I'se raised wid in de Souf, er Eas'
  er Wes'
  I so't o like de ole mule bes'.

Dars sompin' meekly 'bout 'im, hits de fac' he isn't
  bold
An' de 'spression on 'is face is like de holy saints ob
  old;
When he sort o' histe 'is heel up like 's gwine ter hit
  de sky
He's simply exhcisin' jes ter pestervate a fly.
An' de why he 'pears embarrass'd is kase nature had
  ter fail.
An' made 'im sort o' long on ears, en kind o' short
  on tail.
But den he's mo den 'tatched ter me, and know I is
  his frien'
An' we done made up our mind ter stick tergedder
  ter de end;
So dar's no use ob yo' axin' me, yo's done had time
  ter guess
  I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.

I used ter like Lucindy, but den 'Cindy couldn't
  stay,
An' little Sim, I worshiped so, de angles coaxed
  away,
An' Lize Anne, an' br'er Zeph dere up dar on de hill,
I pa'shley think I hear 'em, too, w'en all aroun' is
  still;
Yo' see I'se mo' den lonesome heah, wid nobody ter
  talk,
Er hide behin' de lilac trees adown de garden walk,
Dat w'en I look at dat ole mule I feel so full ob woe
'Bout little Sim 'at rode on 'im, an 'taint so long ago,
Ob all de frien's dat's lef' me now, I 'raly mus'
  confess
  I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.