Nearly every day I got the ferule Jist for winkin’ at Sue Minals; But very soon I had so far prergress’d I war plighted ter sev’ral gals!
I had not been ter school quite a twelvemonth When I’d whal’d each boy in the class, Kiss’d and hugg’d every gal, eaten Scott’s lunch, And ten rivals had sent ter grass!
I put toads in Scott’s pockets, and dead mice Scatter’d everywhar in his desk, Till he froth’d at the mouth in his madness, And cuss’d me for a little pest.
All this tuk place over in Canada, Whar my gov’ner had gone ter preach The Gospel of Jesus ter them sinners, As successor ter Elder Beech.
But don’t tire at th’ length of my story: I’m drawin’ erlong ter the close, Whar I gather’d the seeds that have blarsted, And fill’d a whole nation with woes.
One day when I’d been worse than usual,— Put snuff in the master’s whistle— Old Scott tuk me out berhind the rear wall, And sot me down on a thistle!
An hour and a half he held me thar, While the barbs pen’trated the skin! Havin’ planted the crop, the pedergogue, With my trousers harrer’d it in!
That harrerin’ event I can’t forget, For it fairly set me rantin’: I wood not car’d had the agricult’rist Chosen higher soil ter plant in!