An’ noisy ez a swarm o’ bees;
The cistern water got so brown an’ warm
Ter drink it meant ter drink diseese;
An’ all our corn—wal, git it straight—the corn
Was like ol’ Zekel’s dream long sence,
A valley full o’ rattlin’ skelertons
Thet made ye skeered ter cross the fence!
“D’yew know what them thar sperrits sez?” ast Bill
One moonlight night ez we was lookin’
At thet poor “fired” crop o’ ghosts without