"Dozed away fer an hour,
And I tackled the thing agin;
And I sung, and sung,
Till I knowed my lung
Was jest about give in;
And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now,
There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!

"Once in awhile some farmer
Would come a-drivin' past;
And he'd hear my cry,
And stop and sigh--
Till I jest laid back, at last,
And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat
Would bust right open at ever' note!

"But I _fetched_ her! O _I fetched_ her!--
'Cause a little while ago,
As I kindo' set,
With one eye shet,
And a-singin' soft and low,
A voice drapped down on my fevered brain,
Sayin',--'Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'"




THE HIRED HAND AND "HA'NTS"

BY E.O. LAUGHLIN