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Gy

Nye

Thunder, how he’ll lie!

Never has to stop and think—never has to try.

Says he had a settin’ hen that acted clean pos-

sessed;

Says a kag o’ powder couldn’t shake her off her

nest;

Didn’t mind a flannel rag tied around her tail;

Ev’ry now and then he’d take ’er, souse ’er in

a pail;

Never had the least effect—feathers even friz;

Then she set and pecked the ice, but ’tended

right to biz.

’Peared to care for nothin’ else ’cept to set and

set;

Didn’t seem to care a tunket what she drunk

or et.

Cy he said he got so mad he thought he’d use

’er ha’ash,

So he went to feedin’ on ’er hemlock sawdust

mash.

Hen she gobbled down the stuff, reg’lar as

could be;

“Reely seemed to fat ’er up,” Cy says he to me.

Shows the power of the mind when it gets a

clutch.

Hen imagined it was bran—helped ’er just as

much.

Then she hid her nest away—laid a dozen eggs;

’Leven chickens that she hatched all had wooden

legs,

T’other egg it wouldn’t hatch—solid junk o’

wood,

Hen’s a-wrasslin’ with it yet—thinks the thing

is good.

Thunder, how he’ll lie!

But he’s dry,

—That Cy.

Cy

Nye

Tells another lie:

Claims to be the strongest man around here;

this is why:

Says he bought a side o’ beef up to Johnson’s store,

Tucked it underneath his arm—didn’t mind it

more

Than a pound o’ pickled tripe; sauntered down

the road,

Got to ponderin’ Bible texts—clean forgot his

load.

All to once he chanced to think he meant to get

some meat,

Hustled back to Johnson’s store t’other end the

street,

Bought another side o’ beef. The boys com-

menced to laugh,

—Vummed he hadn’t sensed till then he lugged

the other half.

Can’t deny

’T he can lie,

—That Cy.