They dash ahead as if to take the race.
“The jig is up, Jerushee; guess he’ll beat;
He’s in the lead, and Mose is off his feet.”
“What talk is that? Now, Silas, don’t you scoff;
How can he jig if all his feet are off?
And now you say he’s struck his gait at last,
I feared he’d strike on suthin’, goin’ so fast.”
The stranger cries: “Come on, old Sanctimony,
Old wife, old wagon, and old rack-a-bony!”
Jerusha’s dander’s up; Jerusha’s mad;