Fer a minit or two I jest laid on that grass
Pantin.
Then I up and run to them laylocks
An pulled em every which way.
True es Im settin here, Mis Priest,
Ther warnt nothin ther.
I peeked an pryed all about em,
But ther warnt no man ther
Neither livin nor dead.
But the hand was ther all right,
Upside down, the way Id dropped it,
And glistnin fit to dazzle yer.
I dont know how I done it,
An I dont know why I done it,
But I wanted to git that dretful hand out o sight
I got in t th barn, somehow,
An felt roun till I got a spade.
I couldnt stop fer a lantern,
Besides, the moonlight was bright enough in all conscience.
Then I scooped that awful thing up in th spade.
I had a sight o trouble doin it.
It slid off, and tipped over, and I couldnt bear
Evn to touch it with my foot to prop it,
But I done it somehow.
Then I carried it off beind the barn,
Clost to an old apple-tree
Where you couldnt see from the house,
An I buried it,
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