And empties every grain alive for to set the flue exploding.
'Lawk, Mrs. Round?' says I, and stares, 'that quantum is unproper,
I'm sartin sure it can't not take a pound to sky a copper;
You'll powder both our heads off, so I tells you, with its puff,
But she only dried her fingers, and she takes a pinch of snuff.'
Well, when the pinch is over—'Teach your Grandmother to suck
A powder horn,' says she—Well, says I, I wish you luck.
Them words sets up her back, so with her hands upon her hips,
'Come,' says she, quite in a huff, 'come keep your tongue inside your lips;
Afore ever you was born, I was well used to things like these;