The Bridge

Wal, neighbor, tell us wut's turned up thet's new? You're younger 'n I be,--nigher Boston, tu: An' down to Boston, ef you take their showin', Wut they don't know ain't hardly wuth the knowin'. There's sunthin' goin' on, I know: las' night The British sogers killed in our gret fight (Nigh fifty year they hedn't stirred nor spoke) Made sech a coil you'd thought a dam hed broke: Why, one he up an' beat a revellee With his own crossbones on a holler tree, Till all the graveyards swarmed out like a hive With faces I hain't seen sence Seventy-five. Wut is the news? 'T ain't good, or they'd be cheerin'. Speak slow an' clear, for I'm some hard o' hearin'.