A FALL-CRICK VIEW OF THE EARTHQUAKE

I kin hump my back and take the rain,

And I do n't keer how she pours;

I kin keep kind o’ ca'm in a thunder-storm,

No matter how loud she roars;

I hai n't much skeered o’ the lightnin’,

Ner I hai n't sich awful shakes

Afeard o’ cyclones — but I do n't want none

O’ yer dad-burned old earthquakes!

As long as my legs keeps stiddy,

And long as my head keeps plum’,

And the buildin’ stays in the front lot,

I still kin whistle, some!

But about the time the old clock

Flops off'n the mantel-shelf,

And the bureau skoots fer the kitchen,

I'm a-goin’ to skoot, myself!

Plague-take! ef you keep me stabled

While any earthquakes is around!—

I'm jes’ like the stock,— I'll beller

And break fer the open ground!

And I‘ low you'd be as nervous

And in jes’ about my fix,

When yer whole farm slides from in-under you,

And on'y the mor'gage sticks!

Now cars hai n't a-goin’ to kill you

Ef you do n't drive‘ crost the track;

Crediters never'll jerk you up

Ef you go and pay‘ em back;

You kin stand all moral and mundane storms

Ef you'll on'y jes’ behave —

But a’ EARTHQUAKE:— Well, ef it wanted you

It‘ ud husk you out o’ yer grave!