Of a deadish kind o’ ellum, ’n’ I could tell
Jes’ ez well
’T ’e was cockyer than a roarin’ swearin’ pirate
By the high rate
He was thrashin’ o’ them wings o’ his, an’ tail
Like a flail.
First I tho’t I was a-list’nin’ tew a martin
Sure for sartin;
Then a blue-jay almos’ give me ’n awful shock
With ’is squawk;