And we drove the cattle miles to drink, and many of 'em died.

And day after day went by us, so han'some and so bright,
And never a drop of water came near us, day or night;
And what with the neighbors' grumblin', and what with my daily loss,
I must own that somehow or other I was gettin' mighty cross.

And on one Sunday evenin' I was comin' down the lane
From meetin', where our preacher had stuck and hung for rain,
And various slants on heaven kept workin' in my mind,
And the smoke from Sanders' fallow was makin' me almost blind;

I opened the door kind o' sudden, an' there my Katherine sat,
As cozy as any kitten along with a friendly cat;
An' Tom was dreadful near her--his arm on the back of her chair--
And lookin' as happy and cheerful as if there was rain to spare.

"Get out of this house in a minute!" I cried, with all my might:
"Get out, while I'm a-talkin'!"--Tom's eyes showed a bit of fight;
But he rose up, stiff and surly, and made me a civil bow,
And mogged along to the door-way, with never a word of row.

And I snapped up my wife quite surly when she asked me what I'd said,
And I scolded Kate for cryin', and sent her up stairs to bed;
And then I laid down, for the purpose of gettin' a little sleep,
An' the wind outside was a-howlin', and puttin' it in to keep.

'Twas half-past three next mornin', or maybe 'twas nearer four--
The neighbors they came a-yellin' and poundin' at my door;
"Get up! get up!" they shouted: "get up! there's danger near!