A Full Harvest
Seems like a feller’d ort 'o jes’ to-day
Git down and roll and waller, don’t you know,
In that-air stubble, and flop up and crow,
Seein’ sich craps! I’ll undertake to say
There’re no wheat’s ever turned out thataway
Afore this season!—Folks is keerless tho’,
And too fergitful—'caze we’d ort 'o show
More thankfulness!—Jes’ looky hyonder, hey?—
And watch that little reaper wadin’ thue
That last old yaller hunk o’ harvest-ground—
Jes’ natchur’ly a-slicin’ it in-two
Like honey-comb, and gaumin’ it around
The field—like it had nothin’ else to do
On’y jes’ waste it all on me and you!
