Thar's times one's feelin's swell like bread
In summer-time a-risin',
An' Deely's heart swole in a way
Wus mightily surprising
When Spense gripp'd one ov them thar pans
Ov yaller cream in his big han's!
The moon glode underneath a cloud,
The breeze sigh'd loud an' airy;
The pans they faintlike glimmer'd on
The white walls ov the dairy.
Deely she trembl'd like an ash,
An' lean'd agin the old churn dash.
"Tarnation darksome," growl'd old Spense,
Arf liftin' up the cover—
He turn'd the pan ov cream quite spry
On Deely's Agent lover.
Good sakes alive! a curdlin' skreek
From thet thar Agent man did break!
All drippin' white he ros'd tew view.
His curly locks a-flowin'
With clotted cream, an' in the dusk,
His eyes with terror glowin'.
He made one spring—'tis certain, reely,
He never sed "Good night" tew Deely.
Old Spense he riz up from the ground,
An' with a kind ov wonder,
He look'd inter thet patent vat,
An' simply sed, "By thunder"!
Then look'd at Deely hard, and sed,
"The milk will sop clar thro' his hed"!
Folks look'd right solemn when they heard
The hull ov thet thar story,
An' sed, "It might be plainly seen
Twas clar agin the glory
Of Pruvidence to use a vat
Thet Satan in had boldly sat"!
They shook their heads when Spense declar'd
'Twas Deely's beau in hidin';
They guess'd they know'd a thing or two,
An' wasn't so confidin':—
'Twas the "Devourin' Lion" cum
Tew ask old Spense testep down hum!
Old Spense he kinder spil'd the thing
Fur thet thar congregation,
By holdin' on tew life in spite
Ov Satan's invitation;
An' hurts thar feelin's ev'ry Spring,
Buyin' some pesky patent thing.
The Agent man slid out next day,
To peddle round young Hyson;
And Deely fur a fortnight thought
Ov drinkin' sum rat pison;
Didn't put no papers in her har;
An' din'd out ov the pickle jar.
Then at Aunt Hesby's sewin' bee
She met a slick young feller,
With a city partin' tew his har
An' a city umbereller.
He see'd her hum thet night, an' he
Is now her steddy company!