But the sound won’t carry beyond this hill,
All done in a minute—don’t bark, stand still.
There, that’ll do; steady, quit lickin’ my hand,
What’s wrong with this gun, I can’t understand;
I’m jest ez shaky ez I can be—
Must be the agey’s the matter with me.
An’ that stitch in the back—what! gitten’ old too—
The—dinner—bell’s—ringin’—fer—me—an’ you.
Charles E. Baer.
