When Nacher’s takin’ off ’er overalls,
But ain’t quite done with cleanin’ up the ruck.
We got a-talkin’ speckerlatish like,
’N’ I sez, a-lookin’ up t’ them milyun stars,
“I bet ye, Bill, they’s farms on Jupiter,”
An’ Bill ’e sez, “I’ve offen thought o’ that.”
An’ then he started in an’ reeled it off
Jessif he’s readin’ po’try outen books:
“A Jovial Spring,” he sez (his very words),
“Mus’ last fer mos’ three years, an’ Fall the same.