"You keep your waggon Zionward,
With that religion on it;
I calculate we'll meet"—jest here
A caliker sun bonnet,
On a sister's head, cum round the Jog,
An' preacher dispars'd like mornin' fog!
One day a kind ov judgment come,
The lightnin'-rod conductor
Got broke—the fluid struck his aunt,
An' in the root-house chuck'd her.
It laid her up for quite a while,
An' the judgment made the neighbors smile.
Old Spense he swore a mighty swar,
He didn't mince nor chew it;
For when he spoke, 'most usual,
It had a backbone tew it.
He sed he'd find a healthy plan
Tew square things with the agent man,
Who'd sold him thet thar useless rod
To put upon his roofin';
An' ef he found him round the place,
He'd send the scamp a-hoofin'.
"You sort ov understand my sense?"
"Yes, pa,"—said pooty Deely Spense.
"Yes, pa," sez she, es mild es milk
Tew thet thar strong oration,
An' when a woman acts like that—
It's bin my observation—
(An' reckin that you'll find it sound)
She means tew turn creation round,
An' fix the univarse the way
She sort ov feels the notion.
So Deely let the old man rave,
Nor kick'd up no commotion;
Tho' thet cute agent man an' she
Were know'd es steady company.
He'd chance around when Spense was out,
A feller sort o' airy;
An' poke around free's the wind,
With Deely in the dairy.
(Old Spense hed got a patent churn,
Thet gev the Church a drefful turn).
I am a married man myself,
More sot on steddy plowin',
An' cuttin' rails, than praisin' gals,
Yet honestly allowin'—
A man must be main hard tew please
Thet didn't freeze tew Deely's cheese.
I reckon tho' old Spense hed sign'd
With Satan queer law papers,
He'd fill'd that dairy up chock full
Of them thar patent capers.
Preacher once took fur sermon text—
"Rebellious patent vats.—What next?"
I've kind of stray'd from thet thar scare
That cum on Spense—tho', reely,
I'll allus hold it was a shine
Of thet thar pooty Deely:
Thar's them es holds thro' thin an' thick,
'Twas a friendly visit from Old Nick.