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 kind o’ ca’m in a thunder-storm,
No matter how loud she roars;
I hain’t much skeered o’ the lightnin’,
Ner I hain’t sich awful shakes
Afeard o’ cyclones—but I don’t want none
O’ yer dad-burned old earthquakes!
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 jes’ like the stock,—I’ll beller
And break fer the open ground!
And I ‘low you’d be as nervous
And in jes’ about my fix,
When yer whole farm slides from in-under you,
And on’y the mor’gage sticks!
Now cars hain’t 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 jes’ behave—
But a’ EARTHQUAKE:—Well, ef it wanted you
It ’ud husk you out o’ yer grave!