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by Unknown

That felt for all mankind,—

It made him feel amazin’ bad

To see the world so blind.

Whiskey and rum he tasted not—

That’s as true as the Scripturs,—but if you’ll believe it, Betsy, Ann Kenipe told my Melissy that Miss Jinkins said one day to their house how’t she’d seen Deacon Bedott high, time and agin! did you ever! Well, I’m glad nobody don’t pretend to mind anything she says. I’ve knowed Poll Bingham from a gal, and she never knowed how to speak the truth—besides she always had a partikkeler spite against husband and me, and between us tew I’ll tell you why if you won’t mention it, for I make it a pint never to say nothin’ to injure nobody. Well, she was a ravin’-distracted after my husband herself, but it’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it some other time, and then you’ll know why widder Jinkins is etarnally runnin’ me down. See,—where had I got to? Oh, I remember now,—

Whisky and rum he tasted not,—

He thought it was a sin,—

I thought so much o’ Deacon Bedott

I never got married agin.

But now he’s dead! the thought is killin’,