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.