He's cur'ous—they hain't no mistake
about it!—but he's got
Enough o' extry brains to make
a jury—like as not.
They's no describin' Sifers,—fer,
when all is said and done,
He's jes hisse'f Doc Sifers—ner
they hain't no other one!
V
Doc's allus sociable, polite,
and 'greeable, you'll find—
Pervidin' ef you strike him right
and nothin' on his mind,—
Like in some hurry, when they've sent
fer Sifers quick, you see,
To 'tend some sawmill-accident,
er picnic jamboree;
VI
Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare-
brained harvest-hand; er in
Some 'tempt o' suicidin'—where
they'd ort to try ag'in!
I've knowed Doc haul up from a trot
and talk a' hour er two
When railly he'd a-ort o' not
a-stopped fer "Howdy-do!"