All on eend at bein’ biled?
Ez fer war, I call it murder—
There you hev it plain an’ flat;
I don’t want to go no furder
Than my Testament fer that;
God hez sed so plump an’ fairly,
It’s ez long ez it is broad,
An’ you’ve gut to git up airly
Ef you want to take in God.
’Tain’t your eppyletts an’ feathers