Other ways, and cute and cunnin’—
Allus wuz a notion runnin’
Thue my giddy, fool-head he
Jes had be’n cut out fer me!
Don’t go much on prophesyin’,
But last night whilse I wuz fryin’
Supper, with that man a-pitchin’
Little Marthy round the kitchen,
Think-says-I, “Them baby’s eyes
Is my Henry’s, jes p’cise!”