He started in a-moralizin’:
“It ’s ruther cu’r’us, aint it, how a fuller
Jes’ natchelly falls back on notions
Thet long ago he ’d orter t’run down suller;
I mean them poltices an’ lotions.
Now I was raised ter b’leeve I ’d gotta take
My med’cin, grin an’ bear it, when
Dizease or death, misfortune, pain or ache
Ketched holt, fer thet ’s the way o’ men;
An’ thet is mos’ly trew; but here in farmin’