I DON’T go much on religion, | |
| I never ain’t had no show; | |
| But I ’ve got a middlin’ tight grip, sir, | |
| On the handful o’ things I know. | |
| I don’t pan out on the prophets | 5 |
| And free-will, and that sort o’ thing,— | |
| But believe in God and the angels, | |
| Ever sence one night last spring. | |
| |
| I come into town with some turnips, | |
| And my little Gabe come along,— | 10 |
| No four-year-old in the county | |
| Could beat him for pretty and strong, | |
| Peart and chipper and sassy, | |
| Always ready to swear and fight,— | |
| And I ’d learnt him ter chaw terbacker, | 15 |
| Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. | |
| |
| The snow come down like a blanket | |
| As I passed by Taggart’s store; | |
| I went in for a jug of molasses | |
| And left the team at the door. | 20 |
| They scared at something and started,— | |
| I heard one little squall, | |
| And hell-to-split over the prairie | |
| Went team, Little Breeches and all. | |
| |
| Hell-to-split over the prairie! | 25 |
| I was almost froze with skeer; | |
| But we rousted up some torches, | |
| And sarched for ’em far and near. | |
| At last we struck hosses and wagon, | |
| Snowed under a soft white mound, | 30 |
| Upsot, dead beat,—but of little Gabe | |
| No hide nor hair was found. | |
| |
| And here all hope soured on me | |
| Of my fellow-critter’s aid,— | |
| I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, | 35 |
| Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. * * * * * | |
| By this, the torches was played out, | |
| And me and Isrul Parr | |
| Went off for some wood to a sheepfold | |
| That he said was somewhar thar. | 40 |
| |
| We found it at last, and a little shed | |
| Where they shut up the lambs at night. | |
| We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, | |
| So warm and sleepy and white; | |
| And THAR sot Little Breeches and chirped, | 45 |
| As pert as ever you see, | |
| “I want a chaw of terbacker, | |
| And that ’s what ’s the matter of me.” | |
| |
| How did he git thar? Angels. | |
| He could never have walked in that storm. | 50 |
| They just scooped down and toted him | |
| To whar it was safe and warm. | |
| And I think that saving a little child, | |
| And bringing him to his own, | |
| Is a derned sight better business | 55 |
| Than loafing around the Throne. | |
| |
