—Niff against this one an’ niff against that!
With a voice like a whistle, too big for her
weight,
That was the make-up of Aunt Phebe Pratt.
She’d give it to Ichabod, hot-pitch-and-tar,
Yappin’ as soon as he came to the house;
Allus was hankerin’ after a jar,
Allus was ready to kick up a touse.
But Ichabod he was as calm as a lamb,
Never talked back to her, no, s’r, not he—