An’ fi’ry furrin bull o’ Otto’s bust
Clean threw three fences jes’ ter hev a crack
At Ben. I didn’t git thar till ’twas over,
But heerd consid’bul ’bout it from the naybers.
They said the younger critter kind o’ toyed
With Ben a spell, an’ Ben was sort o’ dazed,
But kep’ a-goin’ not scassly knowin’ what
’Twas all about; then later he got sore,
’Is dander an’ ’is blood come up, an’ say—
The way he whaled thet hateful little cuss....