The portage was long and was muddy and sloppy
From rain pouring hard through the week.
I stalked off in silence. My thoughts were of violence.
I just was too ornery to speak.
Then I started weavin', my steps were uneven.
I stumbled and thought I would die.
I threw down my canoe and I yanked off my shoe
And I hung my head down and I cried.

You picked a fine time to leave me loose heal
With eight feeble campers and a rain that won't yield
From the cold I am twitchin', and my poor back is itchin'
From a sunburn that's startin' to peal.
You picked a fine time to leave me, loose heal.