A Fall Crick View of the Earthquake
I kin hump my back and take the rain,
And I don’t keer how she pours,
I kin keep kindo’ ca’m in a thunder storm,
No matter how loud she roars;
I haint much skeered o’ the lightnin’,
Ner I haint sich awful shakes
Afeared o’ cyclones—but I don’t want none
O’ yer dad-burned old earth-quakes!
As long as my legs keeps stiddy,
And long as my head keeps plum,
And the buildin’ stays in the front lot,
I still kin whistle, some!
But about the time the old clock
Flops off’n the mantel-shelf,
And the bureau skoots fer the kitchen,
I’m a-goin’ to skoot, myself!
Plague-take! ef you keep me stabled
While any earthquakes is around!—
I’m jist like the stock,—I’ll beller,
And break fer the open ground!
And I ‘low you’d be as nervous,
And in jist about my fix,
When yer whole farm slides from inunder you,
And on’y the mor’gage sticks!
Now cars haint a-goin’ to kill you
Ef you don’t drive ‘crost the track;
Crediters never’ll jerk you up
Ef you go and pay ’em back;
You kin stand all moral and mundane storms
Ef you’ll on’y jist behave—
But a’ EARTHQUAKE:—well, ef it wanted you
It ’ud husk you out o’ yer grave!