My Yeller-Legged Rewster

I hadder little rewster once,

     A curus little feller;

His tail warn’t growed, nor wuz his spurs,

     But both his laigs wuz yeller.

He’d tag me all eroun’ the farm,

     ‘Ud fight, an’ allus win it;

Could licker rewster twice ez small,

     In lessen ha’f a minit.

Thet rewster? he knowed ev’rything.

     Yeou couldn’t fool ‘im, nuther;

He’d scoot frum sight when pa come roun’,

     But warn’t afeered o’ mother.

An' I, I planned a big career

     Fer thet young perky chicken;

An’ hed ‘im roun’ the house so much,

     ‘At I come nigh er lickin’.

But one thing he wus back’ards in,

     An’ ‘at wuz on ‘is crowin’;

He wouldn’ crow, an’ air he wuz,

     Purt’ big, an’ stiller growin’.

An’ I, I cried, an’ pa, says he,

     “Yeou little tow-head shewster

Thet rewster yeour’n is er hen,

     An’ ain’t no kin er rewster.”

April 25, ‘94

Pub. in Boston

Courier, Dec. 9,

1894