He spit an’ picked a blade o’ grass an’ et it.
“Seems like ’f we hed a shower o’ rain, an’ then
A warmish spell thet didn’t run ter drouth,
No killin’ frost or long wet rainy days,
An’ ’f Lon mixed in thet fosfate half way right,
An’ all thet ’nockerlatin’ ’s enny good,
An’ ’f luck should kind o’ come our way a bit,
Thet air alfalfy’d mebbe make a start.”
I knowed jes’ much then ’zif I hedn’t ast.
One time a mule kicked Bill squar’ on the jaw.