“I reck’n I didn’t tell ye ’bout this fowl,”
He sez, an’ stopped ’is carvin’ fer a bit,
While Laury looked ez if she’s goin’ ter scowl,
An’ tried by signs ter steer ’im off of it.
“This feller didn’t seem ter hev no sex;
Ha’f hen, ha’f Tom he was; he’d go a-whangin’
Like Toms do, tails spread, wings a-draggin’, necks
All druggled up, an’ great red beads a-hangin’;
“An’ then they’s other times he’d sneak away
Hen fashun like, scratch up a nest, an’ set,