Fer trubble, an’ somehow ’r ’nother trubble seemed
Ter not be look’n’ fer him. It done ’im good,
We thought, an’ thet’s my idee ’bout this war.”
“But how ’bout Lon,” I sez, “ef war should come?”
Thet ketched ’im hard, an’ I was sorry ’t I
Hed ast ’im sich a techy question, ’cos
I knowed thet Lon was all they was ter go,
Bill’s bigges’ boy—the rest was either gals
Or els tew young—an’ Bill was allers jellus
O’ Lon, like heffers be with their firs’ ca’f.