“Bill
Doane, he was the durndest chap
That ever drawed his breath, I swore,”
Said
uncle Matthew Underwood,
To us one night in Stokes’ store.
“He
warn’t no more like other folks
Than black’s like White, or chalk’s like
cheese;
Why
durn my buttons if he warn’t
Wuss nor an Injun chief to please.”
“Bill
Doane he never will agree,
No matter what the subject is;
An’
when he’s talkin’ pollertics
They’s only one opinion – his.
Wuz
allus mystery to me
How Roosevelt app’inted him
To
that position over ‘crost,
The pickin’ must been awful slim.”
“Bill
Doane he’s got, to my idée,
A mind too strong to represent
This
nation on the other side,
An’ yit, by jingoes, he jest went!
Man’d
orter be more meller like
To be a diplomat, I swore;
Some
mighty cur’ous things take place,”
Said Matthew, down at Stoke’s store.
Dec.
9, ‘09
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