THE WIDOW’S LOT.

THE WIDOW’S LOT.
276.3

Міs Pikes Jes called the fust time fer
A month o Sundays I’ve seen her-
She took on scan’luss about me
A-litlu here alone, an’ she
Jes up au said, “A ranch was not
The place fer widders,” an’ she sot
An’ harped on that one string ’til I
Jes shut her up with tea an’ ple.

Poor William’s dead nigh on a year,
Yet I can’t say
An’ law me!
what’s a soul to do,
What’s goin’ outa forty-two?
Fer who’ll dispost a real live man
Around n ranch is handy an
Jack Barrett sex to me last night the
Jes stopped in to get a bite
U chicken plej, he sez. sez he:
You’re not a dny o’er twenty-three.”
But Juck Is sich a cut-up that
He’s always talkin’ thro his hat.

The other day Dec Plerce druv by-
He has a ratich on Alkall
He had a four-hoss lead ant he
Declared bed leave some truck with me,

A sack o’ flour an’ some corn,
A sack o’ sugar which was torn,
Which Duc jes’ vowed would go to waste
Unless sweets was to my taste.

A week ago John Nell druv in- I
Hls heart is big if he is thin-
He said he’d butchered an’ he thought
A alde o’ beef an’ bacon ought
To nohow meet with my re-fuse,
Since he had more than he could use.

An’ there’s Hawk Jenkins, every day
He sort o drops in that-o’-way,
To see if there’s a chore to do.
An’ then jes stays the whole day thro’.
He flares all up when I talk “pay,”
Fer Hawk’s so touchy an’ he’ll say:
“I haven’t got a thing to do;
It’s exercise to work fer you.”

An’ so between them all you see,
There’s scads that worse off fixed than me;
The ranch is clear, an’ eggs an’ sich
Bring prices that’ll make me rich.
An’ then besides the stock’ll grow-
But yet there’s one thing which I know
I might as well say to your face:
A man’s most handy ’round a place:
But William’s gone an’ there’s no more-
Land sakes! there’s Barrett at the door!