Stanzas XI–XX

XI
Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw
but what'll neigh and try
To sidle up to him, and paw,
and sense him, ear-and-eye:
Then jes a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm,
to pat 'em, er to shove
Along their nose--and they're as ca'm
as any cooin' dove!

XII
And same with dogs,--take any breed,
er strain, er pedigree,
Er racial caste 'at can't concede
no use fer you er me,--
They'll putt all predju-dice aside
in Doc's case and go in
Kahoots with him, as satisfied
as he wuz kith-and-kin!

XIII
And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets!--
He's got a chicken-hawk,
In kind o' half-cage, where he sets
out in the gyarden-walk,
And got that wild bird trained so tame,
he'll loose him, and he'll fly
Clean to the woods!--Doc calls his name--
and he'll come, by-and-by!

XIV
Some says no money down ud buy
that bird o' Doc.--Ner no
Inducement to the bird, says I,
'at he'd let Sifers go!
And Doc he say 'at he's content--
long as a bird o' prey
Kin 'bide him, it's a compliment,
and takes it thataway.

XV
But, gittin' back to docterin'--all
the sick and in distress,
And old and pore, and weak and small,
and lone and motherless,--
I jes tell you I 'preciate
the man 'at 's got the love
To "go ye forth and ministrate!"
as Scriptur' tells us of.

XVI
Dull times, Doc jes mianders round,
in that old rig o' his:
And hain't no tellin' where he's bound
ner guessin' where he is;
He'll drive, they tell, jes thataway
fer maybe six er eight
Days at a stretch; and neighbers say
he's bin clean round the State.

XVII
He picked a' old tramp up, one trip,
'bout eighty mile'd from here,
And fetched him home and k-yored his
hip, and kep' him 'bout a year;
And feller said--in all his ja'nts
round this terreschul ball
'At no man wuz a circumstance
to Doc!--he topped 'em all!--

XVIII
Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book
to Doc, and vines and moss
He read like writin'--with a look
knowed ever' dot and cross:
Said, stars at night wuz jes as good
's a compass: said, he s'pose
You couldn't lose Doc in the woods
the darkest night that blows!

XIX
Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't,
by underbresh and plants,
How fur off warter is,--and 'most
perdict the sort o' chance
You'll have o' findin' fish; and how
they're liable to bite,
And whether they're a-bitin' now,
er only after night.

XX
And, whilse we're talkin' fish,--I mind
they formed a fishin'-crowd
(When folks could fish 'thout gittin' fined,
and seinin' wuz allowed!)
O' leadin' citizens, you know,
to go and seine "Old Blue"--
But hadn't no big seine, and so--
w'y, what wuz they to do?...