When 'Lish Played Ox

Grouty and gruff,
Profane and rough,
Old'Lish Henderson slammed through life;
Swore at his workers,
--Both honest and shirkers,
Threatened his children and raved at his wife.
Yes,'Lish was a waspish and churlish old man,
Who was certainly built on a porcupine plan,
In all of the section there couldn't be found
A neighbor whom Henderson hadn't "stood
'round."
And the men that he hired surveyed him with awe
And cowered whenever he flourished his jaw.
Till it came to the time that he hired John Gile,
A brawny six-footer from Prince Edward's
Isle.
He wanted a teamster, old Henderson did,
And a number of candidates offered a bid,
But his puffy red face and the glare in his eyes,
And his thunderous tones and his ominous size
And the wealth of his language embarrassed them so
Their fright made them foolish;--he told them to go.
And then, gaunt and shambling, with goodnatured smile,
Came bashfully forward the giant John Gile.
"Have ye ever driv' oxen?" old Henderson roared.
Gile said he could tell the brad-end of a goad.
Then Henderson grinned at the crowd standing'round
And he dropped to his hands and his knees on the ground.
"Here, fellow," he bellowed, "you take that
'ere gad,
Just imagine I'm oxen; now drive me, my lad.
Just give me some samples of handlin' the stick,
I can tell if I want ye and tell ye blame quick."
Gile fingered the goad hesitatingly, then
As he saw Uncle'Lish grinning up at the men
Who were eyeing the trial, said, "Mister, I swan,
'Tain't fair on a feller--this teamin' a man."
"I'm oxen--I'm oxen," old Henderson cried,
"Git onto your job or git out an' go hide."
Then Gile held the goad-stick in uncertain pose
And gingerly swished it near Uncle'Lish's nose.
"Wo hysh," he said gently; "gee up, there, old Bright!
Wo hysh--wo, wo, hysh,"--but with mischievous light
In his beady old eyes Uncle'Lish never stirred
And the language he used was the worst ever heard.
"Why, drat ye," he roared "hain't ye got no more sprawl
Than a five year old girl? Why, ye might as well call
Your team 'Mister Oxen,' and say to 'em,
'please!'"
And then Uncle'Lish settled down on his knees.
And he snapped, "Hain't ye grit enough, man, to say scat?
Ye'll never git anywhere, drivin' like that.
I'll tell ye right now that the oxen I own
Hain't driven like kittens; they don't go alone,
There's pepper-sass in 'em--they're r'arin' an' hot, .
An' I--I'm the r'arin'est ox in the lot."
Then Uncle'Lish Henderson lowered his head
And bellowed and snorted. John Gile calmly said,
"Of course--oh, of course in a case such as that--"
He threw out his quid and he threw down his hat,
Jumped up, cracked his heels, danced around
Uncle'Lish
And yelled like a maniac, "Blast ye, wo hysh!"
Ere Uncle'Lish Henderson knew what was what
His teeth fairly chattered, he got such a swat
From that vicious ash stick--though that wasn't as bad
As when the man gave him two inches of brad,
--Just jabbed it with all of his two-handed might,
"Wo, haw, there," he shouted, "gee up there, old Bright!"
Well, Uncle'Lish gee-ed--there's no doubt about that--
Went into the air and he squalled like a cat,
Made a swing and a swoop at that man in a style
That would show he proposed to annihilate
Gile.
But Gile clinched the goad-stick and hit him a whack
On the bridge of his nose--sent him staggering back,
And he reeled and he gasped and he sunk on his knee,
"Dad-rat ye," yelled Gile, "don't ye try to hook me!
Gee up, there--go'long there; wo haw an' wo hysh!"
And again did he bury that brad in old'Lish,
Then he lammed and he basted him, steady and hard,
He chased and he bradded him all'round the yard,
Till'Lish fairly screamed, as he dodged like a fox,
"For heaven's sake, stranger, let's play I hain't ox."
Gile bashfully stammered, "Why,'course ye are not!
But ye'll have to excuse me--I sort o' forgot!"
With a twisted smile
'Lish looked at Gile,
Then he lifted one hand from the place where he smarted;
And he held it out,
--Gripped good and stout,
"Ye're hired," said he; "I reckin I'm started!"