I 've lost one eye, but thet 's a loss it 's easy to supply Out o' the glory thet I 've gut, fer thet is all my eye; An' one is big enough, I guess, by diligently usin' it, To see all I shall ever git by way o' pay fer losin' it; Off'cers, I notice, who git paid fer all our thumps an' kickins, Du wal by keepin' single eyes arter the fattest pickins; So, ez the eye 's put fairly out, I 'll larn to go without it, An' not allow _myself_ to be no gret put out about it. Now, le' me see, thet is n't all; I used, 'fore leavin' Jaalam, To count things on my finger-eends, but sutthin' seems to ail 'em: Ware 's my left hand? O, darn it, yes, I recollect wut 's come on 't; I haint no left arm but my right, an' thet 's gut jest a thumb on 't; It aint so hendy ez it wuz to cal'late a sum on 't. I 've hed some ribs broke,--six (I b'lieve),--I haint kep' no account on 'em; Wen pensions git to be the talk, I 'll settle the amount on 'em. An' now I 'm speakin' about ribs, it kin' o' brings to mind One thet I could n't never break,--the one I lef' behind; Ef you should see her, jest clear out the spout o' your invention An' pour the longest sweetnin'-in about an annooal pension, An' kin' o' hint (in case, you know, the critter should refuse to be Consoled) I aint so 'xpensive now to keep ez wut I used to be; There 's one arm less, ditto one eye, an' then the leg thet 's wooden Can be took off an' sot away wenever ther' 's a puddin'. I spose you think I 'm comin' back ez opperlunt ez thunder, With shiploads o' gold images, an' varus sorts o' plunder; Wal, 'fore I vullinteered, I thought this country wuz a sort o' Canaan, a reg'lar Promised Land flowin' with rum an' water, Ware propaty growed up like time, without no cultivation, An' gold wuz dug ez taters be among our Yankee nation, Ware nateral advantages were pufficly amazin', Ware every rock there wuz about with precious stuns wuz blazin', Ware mill-sites filled the country up ez thick ez you could cram 'em, An' desput rivers run about abeggin' folks to dam 'em; Then there were meetinhouses, tu, chockful o' gold an' silver Thet you could take, an' no one could n't hand ye in no bill fer;-- Thet 's wut I thought afore I went, thet 's wut them fellers told us Thet stayed to hum an' speechified an' to the buzzards sold us; I thought thet gold mines could be gut cheaper than china asters, An' see myself acomin' back like sixty Jacob Astors; But sech idees soon melted down an' did n't leave a grease-spot; I vow my holl sheer o' the spiles would n't come nigh a V spot; Although, most anywares we 've ben, you need n't break no locks, Nor run no kin' o' risks, to fill your pocket full o' rocks.