“I reck’n they want us up ’t the house,” I sez,
The hair a-risin’ from my neck,
F’r I’d saw thet stalk wave all its arms an’ nod,
An’ knowed Bill hed the dope correc.’
XXIV
The Labor Situation
“Don’t hardly seem fair,” said Bill with a hitch
Tew his gallus—the other was busted—
“Fer the papers an’ all, the public an’ sich”—
An’ I seen he was kind o’ disgusted—
“Ter praise up the workers ter home an’ not fitin’