Stanzas LXI–LXX

LXI
You ast Jake Dunn;--he's worked it out
in figgers.--He kin show
Stastistics how Doc's airnt about
three fortunes in a row,--
Ever' ten-year' hand-runnin' straight--
three of 'em--thirty year'
'At Jake kin count and 'lucidate
o' Sifers' practice here.

LXII
Yit--"Praise the Lord," says Doc,
"we've got our little home!" says he--
"(It's railly Winniferd's, but
what she owns, she sheers with me.)
We' got our little gyarden-spot,
and peach- and apple-trees,
And stable, too, and chicken-lot,
and eighteen hive' o' bees."

LXIII
You call it anything you please,
but it's witchcraft--the power
'At Sifers has o' handlin' bees!--
He'll watch 'em by the hour--
Mix right amongst 'em, mad and hot
and swarmin'!--yit they won't
Sting him, er want to--'pear to not,--
at least I know they don't.

LXIV
With me and bees they's no p'tense
o' social-bility--
A dad-burn bee 'u'd climb a fence
to git a whack at me!
I s'pose no thing 'at's got a sting
is railly satisfied
It's sharp enough, ontel, i jing!
he's honed it on my hide!

LXV
And Doc he's allus had a knack
inventin' things.--Dee-vised
A windlass wound its own se'f back
as it run down: and s'prised
Their new hired girl with clothes-line, too,
and clothes-pins, all in one:
Purt'-nigh all left fer her to do
wuz git her primpin' done!

LXVI
And onc't, I mind, in airly Spring,
and tappin' sugar-trees,
Doc made a dad-burn little thing
to sharpen spiles with--these-
Here wood'-spouts 'at the peth's punched out,
and driv' in where they bore
The auger-holes. He sharpened 'bout
a million spiles er more!

LXVII
And Doc's the first man ever swung
a bucket on a tree
Instid o' troughs; and first man brung
grained sugar--so's 'at he
Could use it fer his coffee, and
fer cookin', don't you know.--
Folks come clean up from Pleasantland
'fore they'd believe it, though!

LXVIII
And all Doc's stable-doors onlocks
and locks theirse'ves--and gates
The same way;--all rigged up like clocks,
with pulleys, wheels, and weights,--
So, 's Doc says, "drivin' out, er in,
they'll open; and they'll then,
All quiet-like, shet up ag'in
like little gentlemen!"

LXIX
And Doc 'ud made a mighty good
detective.--Neighbers all
Will testify to that--er could,
ef they wuz legal call:
His theories on any crime
is worth your listenin' to.--
And he has hit 'em, many a time,
'long 'fore established true.

LXX
At this young druggist Wenfield Pence's
trial fer his life,
On primy faishy evidence
o' pizonin' his wife,
Doc's testimony saved and cle'red
and 'quitted him and freed
Him so 's he never even 'peared
cog-nizant of the deed!