The origin of the "Arkansas Traveler" relates to the time Sandford C. Faulkner, a wealthy planter of Chicot County, Arkansas, got lost among the wild, rugged hills of the old Bayou Mason township in that county.

[2] The squatter, who was non-committal to all inquiries of the traveler as to the locality, the road, or the way out of the hills, and who was very peremptory in his refusal of accommodation for the traveler and his horse, was engaged in a bungling attempt to play upon an old cracked and battered fiddle the first bar or two of an old familiar air much in vogue with the settlers of some of the older Southern States.

Faulkner, who was somewhat of a fiddler himself, took the squeaky instrument and played the whole of the tune and played himself into the heart and home of the surly old squatter, who joyously accorded him the only dry spot in the cabin, feed for his horse, and a pull at the old black whisky jug.

[2] The score was first published by W. C. Peters in 1847 who arranged Faulkner's tune under the name "The Arkansas Traveller and Rackinsac Waltz.

"[3] The song was first published by Mose Case, a humorist and guitarist from New York, in 1863 under the name "The Arkansas Traveler."

A recitation of the story by Len Spencer, with accompaniment by an unknown fiddler, was first recorded by the Zonophone label in early 1902.

It is traditionally known to have had several versions of lyrics, which are much older than Arkansas' copyrighted song.

Squatter pick a sunny morning when the air is dry and nice, Patch up your cabin, that is my advice.

The squatter shook his hoary head, and answered with a stubborn air, Cabin never leaks a drop when days are bright and fair!

Verse 2 A traveler was riding by that day, And stopped to hear him a-practicing away; The cabin was a-float and his feet were wet, But still the old man didn't seem to fret.

Verse 3 The traveler replied, "That's all quite true, But this, I think, is the thing for you to do; Get busy on a day that is fair and bright, Then patch the old roof till it's good and tight."

Then the stranger took the fiddle, with a riddy-diddle-diddle, And the strings began to tingle at the jingle of the bow, While the old man sat and listened, and his eyes with pleasure glistened, As he shouted, "Hallelujah!

Oh, there was a little boy and his name was Bo, Went out into the woods when the moon was low, And he met an old bear who was hungry for a snack, And his folks are still a-waiting for Bosephus to come back.

For the boy became the teacher of this kind and gentle creature Who can play upon the fiddle in a very skillful way.

I'm bringin' home my baby dinosaur Won't my mommy kick him out the door?