An’ burnt it clean ter blazes, ’long with ten
Or twenty ton o’ hay an’ straw,
An’ knocked the stuffin’ out o’ “Herford Ben,”
Whose peddygree was long ’s the law.
With Sunday come a quiet restin’ spell;
We needed it, by Jethro, tew,
Fer scorchy weather ’n’ rotten luck is hell
On fellers try’n’ ter “see it threw,”
Ez Bill is allers sayin’; them’s ’is words
When things is wrong an’ nothin’ ’s right;