BUSTED THE “TEST YOUR STRENGTH”
When pa was down to Topsham fair
I snooped around and heard him swear
To Jotham Briggs that it seemed to him
That muscle nowadays was slim,
For he said he’d stood there quite a length,
Seein’ folks whang at the “test your strength,”
And there wasn’t a one in all that spell
Who’d hit a crack that had tapped the bell.
And pa talked loud and he sassed the crowd,
And the crowd sassed pa, and he allowed
He’d show ’em what; and so old Jote
Just held his hat and his vest and coat;
And pa he rolled his sleeves up tight,
Hauled out his plug and took a bite.
He whirled one arm in wind-mill style,
—Then whirled the other one awhile.
He picked his pessle out at length
And sassed the great, tall “test your strength.”
“I’m goin’ to soak ye now,” says pa,
“You’ll think it’s y’earthquakes by the jar.
Git out the way and giv’ me swing,
—I’ll bust the ha’slet out the thing.”
And pa he spit in both his fists
And give the handle two three twists,
And swung the beetle round and round
To give one big, gol-rippin’ pound.
One knee was right up’ginst his chin,
His eyes stuck out, his lips sucked in,
And down he fetched her with a jolt,
But pa—but pa—he missed his holt!
He lost his grip, the pessle flew,
And folks they scattered, I tell you.
Some chaps fell down and some they ducked,
And them fur off, by gosh, they hucked.
For that air pessle, sir, it come
Sky-hootin’ like a ten-inch bomb.
It landed more’n eight rods away
Right through the top of Drew’s new shay,
—Right ’twixt the gal and Ezry Drew,
And hully gee, it scart ’em blue.
While pa—wal, pa, he jest turned green
—Gawked fust at Drew, then that machine.
And hammed and stuttered out at length,
“I aimed ’er at that to test your strength’!”
“Good eye!” says Ez, as mad as sin,
And then he snorted, “Drunk agin!”
And pa—wal, warn’t a thing to say,
’Cept pull,—and ask Ez, “What’s to pay?”