The han's 'ud wash there mornin's, an' the stock 'ud come at
night,
To drink ez fast ez Lige could pump an' work 'ith all his
might.
The cattle they'd injoy it, though, an' when they'd got enuff
They'd stick their noses in the troft an' pull 'em out an' snuff.
So when the stock 'ud go away, an' Lige was perty hot
He'd stop the spout a runnin' 'ith his hand, ez like ez not;
He'd pump a bit, then shet his eyes, an' put his mouth down
plump,
An' drink a stream of gladness from
the ol'
wood
pump.
An' when you had to prime it, then they was an awful fuss;
The girls 'ud git the wotter pails and make a dredful muss,
Spillin' more outside 'n in; you could hyur it splashin' down,
Dashin' round aginst milk things 'ith a holler, far off soun';
Perty quick the pump 'ud sniffle; then he'd sorter turn an'
growl;
Then, ez if he did n't like it, he 'ud jes' git up an' howl;
An' before you hardly know'd it 'ud hyur a little thump,
An the wotter 'ud be flowin' from
the ol'
wood
pump.
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