Penelope

So youve kem yer agen,     And one answer wont do?     Well, of all the derned men     That Ive struck, it is you.     O Sal! yers that derned fool from Simpsons, cavortin round yer in the dew.     Kem in, ef you will.     Thar, quit! Take a cheer.     Not that; you cant fill     Them theer cushings this year,     For that cheer was my old mans, Joe Simpson, and they dont make such men about yer.     He was tall, was my Jack,     And as strong as a tree.     Thars his gun on the rack,     Jest you heft it, and see.     And you come a courtin his widder! Lord! where can that critter, Sal, be!     Youd fill my Jacks place?     And a man of your size,     With no baird to his face,     Nor a snap to his eyes,     And nary Sho! thar! I was foolin, I was, Joe, for sartain, dont rise.     Sit down. Law! why, sho!     Im as weak as a gal.     Sal! Dont you go, Joe,     Or Ill faint, sure, I shall.     Sit down, anywheer, where you like, Joe, in that cheer, if you choose, Lord! wheres Sal?