‘Prowidin’ these ’ere tngs don’t bust I’ll take
you like a fly.’
He piled aboard, s’r, master quick, there warn’t
no need to tease,
And there he sot, the gun straight up, the butt
between his knees.
“I’ll tell you ’bout that mare of mine—the
more you holler ‘whoa,’
I’ve larnt the whelp to clench her teeth, and
h’ist her tail—and go!