A Full Harvest.

Seems like a feller'd ort 'o jes' to-day Git down and roll and waller, don't you know, In that-air stubble, and flop up and crow, Seein' sich craps! I'll undertake to say There're no wheat's ever turned out thataway Afore this season!—Folks is keerless tho', And too fergitful—'caze we'd ort 'o show More thankfulness!—Jes' looky hyonder, hey?— And watch that little reaper wadin' thue That last old yaller hunk o' harvest-ground— Jes' natchur'ly a-slicin' it in-two Like honey-comb, and gaumin' it around The field—like it had nothin' else to do On'y jes' waste it all on me and you!