Idylls of the Skillet Fork

TO THE PRESIDING SPIRIT (IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING) HEREIN CALLED “ BILL ” OF SKILLET FORK FARM ON THE BORDERS OF “EGYPT”
“ Bill ”
by Payson S. Wild
Ralph Fletcher Seymour Chicago
Copyrighted 1918 Ralph Fletcher Seymour
Twenty-two of these Bucolics have appeared from time to time during the last three years in “A LINE O’ TYPE OR TWO” of The Chicago Tribune . For permission to reprint them here I am indebted to the genial “Conductor.”
P. S. W.
Chicago, November, 1918.
Say, Bill, ef I’ve cast sparrergrass at yew In this ’ere book, ye needn’t think it’s trew; Fer yew air jes’ ’s yer be from day ter day In spite o’ what us foolin’ fellers say.
IDYLLS OF THE SKILLET FORK
I reck’n yew’ve never saw the Skillet?
Wal, ye-e-es, they’s likelier streams;