But as he spoke he sought to hide a poultice
with his hat
And curtly said, “Oh, jest a tunk! you see,
Aunt Clark done that.”
'Tis the tale of Bart of Brighton—mean-
ing Brighton up in Maine,
—It’s the tale of Uncle Bart, sir, and his
racker-gaited mare;
I have toned it down a little where the language
was profane,