Er spilet the grass plot where I fell,
An’ sakes alive it hurt me; well,
It wouldn’t be’n so bad you see,
But he jest kep’ a-hittin’ me.
An’ I hit back an’ kicked an’ pawed,
But ’t seemed ’twas mostly air I clawed,
While Zekel used his science well
A-makin’ every motion tell.
He punched an’ hit, why, goodness lands,
Seemed like he had a dozen hands.