used to public schools,
An' where sech things ez paper 'n' ink air clean agin the rules:
A kind o' vicyvarsy house, built dreffle strong an' stout,
So 's 't honest people can't git in, ner t' other sort git out,
An' with the winders so contrived, you'd prob'ly like the view
Better a-lookin' in than out, though it seems sing'lar, tu;
But then the landlord sets by ye, can't bear ye out o' sight,
And locks ye up ez reg'lar ez an outside door at night.

This world is awfle contrary: the rope may stretch your neck
Thet mebby kep' another chap frum washin' off a wreck;
An' you will see the taters grow in one poor feller's patch,
So small no self-respectin' hen thet vallied time 'ould scratch,
So small the rot can't find 'em out, an' then agin, nex' door,
Ez big ez wut hogs dream on when they're 'most too fat to snore.
But groutin' ain't no kin' o' use; an' ef the fust throw fails,
Why, up an' try agin, thet's all,--the coppers ain't all tails;
Though I _hev_ seen 'em when I thought they hed n't no more head
Than'd sarve a nussin' Brigadier thet gits some ink to shed.

When I writ last, I'd ben turned loose by thet blamed nigger, Pomp,
Ferlorner than a musquash, ef you'd took an' dreened his swamp:
But I ain't o' the meechin' kind, thet sets an' thinks fer weeks
The bottom's out o' th' univarse coz their own gillpot leaks.
I hed to cross bayous an' criks, (wal, it did beat all natur',)
Upon a kin' o' corderoy, fust log, then alligator:
Luck'ly the critters warn't sharp-sot; I guess't wuz overruled
They'd done their mornin's marketin' an' gut their hunger cooled;
Fer missionaries to the Creeks an' runaway's air viewed
By them an' folks ez sent express to be their reg'lar food:
Wutever 't wuz, they laid an' snoozed ez peacefully ez sinners,
Meek ez disgestin' deacons be at ordination dinners;
Ef any on 'em turned an' snapped, I let 'em kin' o' taste
My live-oak leg, an' so, ye see, ther' warn't no gret o' waste,
Fer they found out in quicker time than ef they'd ben to college
'T warn't heartier food than though 't wuz made out o' the tree o'
knowledge.

But _I_ tell _you_ my other leg hed larned wut pizon-nettle meant,
An' var'ous other usefle things, afore I reached a settlement,
An' all o' me thet wuz n't sore an' sendin' prickles thru me
Wuz jest the leg I parted with in lickin' Montezumy:
A usefle limb it 's ben to me, an' more of a s