I’ll take the yarn, as the whale tuk in Mr. Jonah, without any doubt; But, years ago, an ervent tuk place, What I will tell ye all erbout— And if ye don’t say, it matches your’n My name is not Pherlander Lee: It tuk place when I war rarftin’ lorgs, Years ago, upon the Suanee,— With Ashley Cole, Will Starks and Ed. Flynn, And a dozen or more, maybe, Of lumbermen, who work’d all day at Ermanuel labor with me. We anchor’d our rarft n’ar Cedar Keys, And squatted down berside the stream One evenin’, and after supper dropp’d orf Ter slumber, ter rest and dream— Of wives and children we’d left erbove In the pineries days berfore; And now, worn out with lerborious toil, We quickly bergan for ter snore. Ter keep the flies orf we built a fire, And Fanny, my little black dorg, That I thought a mighty sight of, sir, Doubl’d up ter snooze on a lorg— A few yards from the fire. A sharp yelp Woke me from my dreams, and, springin’ Right out of my cot, I hurried orf Whar the cries of my Fanny war ringin’ On the air, as an allergater In his jaws had cru’lly caught her, And war makin’ right orf with my pet, Ter his young ’ns in the water! Seizin’ a club, I feller’d right fast After the stealthy, thievin’ brute; But the night war dark, and the critter Successfully baffled pursuit! My dorg war gone: ’twar no use frettin’ O’er raid of that allergater, What had sneak’d my pet from orf that lorg, And, I doubted not, had ate her! She did not come back ter tell the tale Of how she had been sneak’d away, And I mourn’d her as lost ter me forever, And—had not a word ter say. But, Elder, that war n’t the last I saw Of that little black pet of our’n, For two months later, when we’d come down Agin, and one day war scourin’— Erbout for game, in a swamp n’ar by The slimy thief I once more saw! Liftin’ my rifle, I lodg’d a ball Right under his uplifted jaw. In them days I war reckon’d a shot, And, ye may bet, the critter died: Then over on his back we turn’d him, And bergun ter rermove his hide. While this war doin’ I heer’d a bark Of a dorg, what appear’d quite near! ’Twar so much like Fanny’s, with my sleeve I—jist brush’d from my cheek a tear! Wal, when we had cut the varment open— Ye won’t berlieve it, but it’s true As any story I’ve ever told, My Fanny jump’d squar inter view! Then, arter her came three pretty purps— Exact picters of thar mother! We ply’d our knives agin in the flesh, And then unkiver’d another! Ye see, I had rerkiver’d my pet, What brought back a numerous crop Of young dogs; now if I hain’t match’d ye, Why, Elder, I’ll gen’rously stop!