LII
Doc has bin 'cused o' offishness and lack o' talkin' free
And extry friendly; but he says, "I'm 'feard o' talk," says he,—
"I've got," he says, "a natchurl turn fer talkin' fit to kill.—
The best and hardest thing to learn is trick o' keepin' still."
LIII
Doc kin smoke, and I s'pose he might drink licker—jes fer fun.
He says, "You smoke, you drink all right; but I don't—neether one"—
Says, "I like whiskey—'good old rye'—but like it in its place,
Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your face."
LIV
Doc's bound to have his joke! The day he got that off on me
I jes had sold a load o' hay at "Scofield's Livery,"
And tolled Doc in the shed they kep' the hears't in, where I'd hid
The stuff 'at got me "out o' step," as Sifers said it did.
LV
Doc hain't, to say, no "rollin' stone," and yit he hain't no hand
Fer 'cumulatin'.—Home's his own, and scrap o' farmin'-land—
Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down sick
The suddentest—'most any day they want him 'special quick.