The babies in echoders eyes—
saye, neighbour, shall it bee?
Nould give Frank in goodly store—
that I; in sooth, ne can;
but I have steers and hoggs gillore—
and thats what makes the man!
Your family trees and blade be naught
In these progressive years—
The only blode that counts (goes?) for aught
Is blode of piggs and steeres!