Wal, Mary Ann kep’ at him stiddy mornin’ an’ evenin’ long,
Tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o’ talkin’ wrong.
One day I was pickin’ currants daown by the old quince tree,
When I heerd Jake’s voice a-sayin’: “Be ye willin’ ter marry me?”
An’ Mary Ann kerrectin’, “Air ye willin’, yeou sh’d say.”
Our Jake he put his foot daown in a plum, decided way,
“No wimmen-folks is a-goin’ ter be re-arrangin’ me.
Hereafter I says ‘craps,’ ‘them is,’ ‘I calk’late,’ an’ ‘I be.’
Ef folks don’t like my talk they needn’t hark ter what I say;
But I ain’t a-goin’ to take no sass from folks from Injun Bay.