Divvy Up

He wuz an artist feller,

     An’ he strolled onto my farm,

With a lot uv paintin’ brushes,

     An’ a book beneath his arm.

Says he, “Mr. Hayseed, howdy,”

     An’ he made a stagy bow;

Says he, “May I hev the pleasure

     Uv a-paintin’ uv yewr caow?”

“She is lyin’ in the pastur,

     In a fine, artistic pose;

An’ I thought I’d stop an’ ask ye

     Ef ‘twas safe tur git up close?”

Says I, “Go ahead an’ paint ‘er,

     She is gentle, I’ll allow;

But – er – how much be yew a gittin’

     Fur a paintin’ uv a caow?”

“Fifty dollars,” says he, smilin’,

     “Fifty dollars isn’t much

Fur a picture 8x12, sir,

     With my fine artistic touch.”

Says I, “Young man, thet is cheatin’,

     An’ the like I never see;

Yew don’t paint thet thar young heifer

     ‘Thout yew divvy up ‘ith me!”

June 26, ‘95

Pub. in B. Courier,

July 7, 1895