And Doc's the first man ever swung
a bucket on a tree
Instid o' troughs; and first man brung
grained sugar—so's 'at he
Could use it fer his coffee, and
fer cookin', don't you know.—
Folks come clean up from Pleasantland
'fore they'd believe it, though!
LXVIII
And all Doc's stable-doors onlocks
and locks theirse'ves—and gates
The same way;—all rigged up like clocks,
with pulleys, wheels, and weights,—
So, 's Doc says, "drivin' out, er in,
they'll open; and they'll then,
All quiet-like, shet up ag'in
like little gentlemen!"
LXIX
And Doc 'ud made a mighty good
detective.—Neighbers all
Will testify to that—er could,
ef they wuz legal call:
His theories on any crime
is worth your listenin' to.—
And he has hit 'em, many a time,
'long 'fore established true.