Sez she, "If folks will gorge themselves 'till their eyes stand out with fatness,' as the Good Book sez, how can they see plain to gratefully count over the blessin's the past year has brought 'em, and lay plans to pass on some of their good cheer to them that set in the shadders of grief and poverty?"
She said I'd be all right in a day or two, and if I wuzn't she should soak my head, and doctor me, for, sez she, "I hain't goin' to have anybody round writin' such deprestin' and ongrateful verses.
"Lots of times," sez she, "if sentimental and melancholy poets would git their livers to workin' better they wouldn't harrer up their readers so. Catnip would help 'em to look on the brighter side of life, or thoroughwort."
And she didn't like the last pathetic and interestin' stanza; she said I'd had my way, or thought I'd had it time and agin. And agin she said it wuz my liver that ailed me, and she even approached me with some catnip tea.
Good heavens! Catnip! to curb my soarin' sperit, and soothe the ardent emotions of my soul.
A regular fool idee. You might know it sprung from a female's brain, or ruther the holler spot where brains should be—Gracious heaven! Catnip!