In ’bout uh week I heahd uh nock—’twuz Mars Dick at de do’;
I’d jes’ begun uh leetle bit ter walk ’cross de flo’;
De pussperation baved meh face, an’ I had so leetle bref,
Dat Mars Dick say, “Why, Ben, what’s de matter wid yo’sef?”
I say ter him, “Dat auntydote wuz wus’n dangerous,
De mule he gib uh pow’ful snort, an’ his blow wuz de fus’!
De bone-set’s clustah’d ’roun’ meh bones, de snake-root’s in meh brain,
Meh back is full ub mis’ry, an’ meh haid is full ub pain.”
MORAL.
Young Marster ain’ de kine ub man dat suits de Legislater,