Good an deep.
I dont reclect nothin more o that night.
Clarence woke me up in th mornin,
Hollerin fer me to come down and set th milk.
When hed gone,
I stole roun to the apple-tree
And seed the earth all new turned
Where I left it in my hurry.
I did a heap o gardenin
That mornin.
I couldnt cut no big sods
Fear Clarence would notice and ask me what I wanted em fer,
So I got teeny bits o turf here and ther,
And no one couldnt tell therd ben any diggin
When I got through.
They was awful days after that, Mis Priest,
I used ter go every mornin and poke about them bushes,
An up and down the fence,
Ter find the body that hand come off of.
But I couldnt never find nothin.
Id lay awake nights
Hearin them laylocks blowin and whiskin.
At last I had Clarence cut em down
An make a big bonfire of em.
I told him the smell made me sick,
An that warnt no lie,
I cant abear the smell on
An no wonder, es you say.
I fretted somethin awful bout that hand
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2016-03-17
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