We arg’ed the thing at breakfast—we arg’ed the thing at tea—
And the more we arg’ed the question, the more we couldn’t agree.
And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow;
She had kicked the bucket, for certain—the question was only—How?
I held my opinion, and Betsy another had;
And when we were done a talkin’, we both of us was mad.
And the next that I remember, it started in a joke;
But for full a week it lasted and neither of us spoke.
And the next was when I fretted because she broke a bowl;
And she said I was mean and stingy, and hadn’t any soul.