Hen Billins’s Problem

Hen Billins set in Stokes’ store,

As he had often set afore,

An’ whittled on a piece uv wood

As only Henry Billins could.

‘Cuz Henry, when he had a load

Upon his mind, we allus knowed;

We knowed he’d trouble an’ unrest

Becuz he whittled like persest.

The chips they dropped upon the floor

Around the stove in Stokes’s store;

But otherwise he never stirred,

An’ never said a single word.

“Well, Hen,” says Cap’n Joe, says he,

“You’re purty quiet, seems to me;

What’s on your mind? You lost your tongue,

Or is your indergestion sprung?”

Hen Billin’s then he dropped the stick

An’ shet his knife up with a click,

An’ with a movement, very slow,

He turned an’ looked at Cap’n Joe.

An’ then a stillness settled o’er

The atmosphere uv Stokes’s store,

An’ each one listened right away,

To hear what Hen wuz goin’ to say.

An’ Hen, he give a little grin

An’ stroked the stubble on his chin,

An’ drawled, his voice exceedin’ low:

“Waal, I wuz wonderin’, Cap’n Joe,

Jest what the difference would be

Eef tweedle-dum wuz tweedle-dee.”

An’ ev’ry feller, ‘ceptin’ Cap,

Laughed like his trouser band would snap!

July 14, ‘10