The Farmers’ Gild (an’ nuthin’ much besides),
While I’d went up ter Sims’ an’ teched a chap
I knowed fer five, an’ trusted Proverdunce
Ter see me threw. (Bill sez thet Proverdunce
Is mos’ly what ye dew yerself, with p’r’aps
A dash o’ luck throwed in ter help along.)
Then come the stunnin’ news.... Things wa’n’t the same,
’N’ I reckon never will be ’gain. The farm
Seemed empty like, ’n’ I stopped good menny times
Ter look whar Lon hed carved ’is ’nishuls on