An’ gab an’ gas f’um morn till noon
About the other side the moon;
An’ ’bout the natur of the place
Ten miles beyend the end of space.
An’ if his wife she’d ask the crank
Ef he wouldn’t kinder try to yank
Hisself out-doors an’ git some wood
To make her kitchen fire good,
So she c’d bake her beans an’ pies,
He’d say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.”