Fond men, their ain’t no use in kickin’
Against the pricks; you’ll only tear
Your feet, for I am bound on stickin’
To what I’ve said. Beware! beware!
For Betsey Bobbet I’ll remain,
Unless I see my duty plain.
“You see I have come out in my right name,” sez she, as she concluded. “When a person gets famous, there ain’t no use in concealin’ their name any longer; it looks affected.”
“You be a nateral,” says I to myself; “a nateral fool.” But I didn’t speak it audible—outwardly, I was calm; fer there was still a gloomy shadder broodin’ over her eyebrow, and I didn’t want to bruise her lacerated feelin’s any further. Pretty soon she spoke up ag’in.
“What do you think of the poetry?” sez she.