Er flickers—I ’low ’twuz the po’try—
I thought thet my eyes bed gone blind.
* * * * *
Take that pop from my belt!
Hi, thar—gimme yer han’—
Or I’ll kill myself—Lizzie! she’s left me—
Gone off with a purtier man!
Thar, I’ll quit—the ole gal
An’ the kids! run away!
I be derned! Howsomever, come in, pard—