That Little Black Pet of Our’n.
’Pears ter me, that whale war kind-hearted Ter render sich an act; I’m sure Most lan’lords would jist tell him ter git Mighty quick away from thar door— If he’d not the spondulicks ter pay For his meals, his washin’ and bed; But this generous whale surplied all, And never tax’d Jonah a red!
Do ye think ye could find a lan’lord In these days as kind as that whale, What opened his mouth and ax’d him in When the sea war runnin’ a gale! I guess ye’d look a long while, Elder, Ter find one in this ere big State, Who would not a cuss’d right smart at him, And left Mr. J. ter his fate.
Elder, I’ve been thinkin’ it over, And, dog on it! I cannot see How that story can be at all true; But as you say so, it must be: For ye teech us ter berlieve each word What is writ for our edderfecation, Ter turn poor sinners ter Jesus Christ, And rescue ’em from damnation!
I’ll take the yarn, as the whale tuk in Mr. Jonah, without any doubt; But, years ago, an ervent tuk place, What I will tell ye all erbout— And if ye don’t say, it matches your’n My name is not Pherlander Lee: It tuk place when I war rarftin’ lorgs, Years ago, upon the Suanee,—