II.

Orchard’s where I’d ruther be— Needn’t fence it in fer me! Jes’ the whole sky overhead, And the whole airth underneath— Sorto’ so’s a man kin breathe Like he ort, and kindo’ has Elbow-room to keerlessly Sprawl out len’thways on the grass, Where the shadders thick and soft As the kivvers on the bed Mother fixes in the loft Allus, when they’s company!