I fairly wallered in thet smoke, by jing!
At last—’twas gittin’ right smart darkish, ’n’ we
Could hear the snipe a-callin’ in the fiel’,
An’ all the western sky was brownish pink—
Bill ups an’ sez—an’ I could see ’is grin—
“’Pears like y’er’ gittin’ sight o’ comfort out
O’ thet thar shag, an’ I aint blamin’ on ye,
Tho’ onct ’n a while it sort o’ turns my stummick.
What is’t, ‘Farmer’s Delight’?” “Nope, ‘Dago’s Joy’”,
I sez, a-rammin’ in another charge.