She jest GA'NTS 'em, folks tells me,
On spiced pears!--Pass Mylo one,
He says "No, he don't chuse none!"
Workin'men like Mylo they
'D ort to have MEAT ev'ry day!

Dad-burn Mylo Jones's wife!
Ruther rake a blame caseknife
'Crost my wizzen than to see
Sich a womern rulin' ME!--
Ruther take and turn in and
Raise a fool mule-colt by hand'
MYLO, though--od-rot the man!--
Jest keeps ca'm--like some folks CAN--
And 'lows sich as her, I s'pose,
Is MAN'S HE'PMEET'--Mercy knows!





HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM


Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and
John,
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time
comes on,--
And THEN, I want to say to you, we NEEDED he'p about,
As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned