Will sez he ’lows it’s jes’ plain fits she’s got.
Our Duroc “Iphijeny” ’s littered ... eight....
Jes’ walkin’ cherries! My, but how they’ll grow!
Will’s figg’rin’ now on what’ll be the’r weight
Come Fall; he sez our corn’s a-runnin’ low....
D’yew say it’s yaller? Prob’ly got “damp feet”;
Will sez alfalfy’ll do thet when’t’s tew wet....
The way it gits ter rain is hard ter beat;
But then, Will sez it ain’t no use ter fret....
No, couldn’t go las’ night—set up fer Nell;