She’ll ac’ ’z if she’s daid ez long ez it’s curled,
An’ don’t ye leggo of ’er—not fer the world.”
When we reached “Four Mile” we sed down ter rest,
Completely bewitched by thet orb in the West.
We was talkin’ ’bout Injuns, an’ seein’ ’em tew,
When I noticed, by jing, that ’ar ’possum hed blew!
VII
Jupiter
Few months ago, I ’member well, me’n Bill
Was settin’ by the cattle wat’rin’-trough