An' lean'd agin the old churn dash.

"Tarnation darksome," growl'd old Spense,
Arf liftin' up the cover--
He turn'd the pan ov cream quite spry
On Deely's Agent lover.
Good sakes alive! a curdlin' skreek
From thet thar Agent man did break!

All drippin' white he ros'd tew view.
His curly locks a-flowin'
With clotted cream, an' in the dusk,
His eyes with terror glowin'.
He made one spring--'tis certain, reely,
He never sed "Good night" tew Deely.

Old Spense he riz up from the ground,
An' with a kind ov wonder,
He look'd inter thet patent vat,
An' simply sed, "By thunder"!
Then look'd at Deely hard, and sed,
"The milk will sop clar thro' his hed"!

Folks look'd right solemn when they heard
The hull ov thet thar story,
An' sed, "It might be plainly seen
Twas clar agin the glory
Of Pruvidence to use a vat
Thet Satan in had boldly sat"!