Classic Poem

I am an honest man, I am; ez fair ez a man kin be;
Fer anything that's on th' square, I'm willin' to agree;
But when I'm right, no set o' men kin argify with me.

I heerd th' witnesses myself an' I heerd th' lawyers, too;
I heerd th' jedge's charge, 'y jing, that some of 'em slept right through,
An' that man, he wa'n't guilty, sir, no more 'n me er you.

Now, what's th' use t' argify when y' know right where ye 're at?
If my mind's made up, 'y jing, I'll stay, y' kin bet yer Sunday hat;
When y' can't git nothin' in th' draw, my doctern is, stand pat.

Ten of 'em stood for th' feller's guilt on th' fust vote, instantly;
One of 'em voted his ballot blank an' th' other one was me,
An' of all th' stubborn, senseless mules, I swan I never see!

I 'low I know what's evidence an' I got some slight idee
Of law myself, though I don't perfess to be no LL.D.
But th' ain't no 'leven men on airth kin bulldoze Silas Lee.

They argified an' argified, with now an' then a swear;
I set an' listened to 'em talk an' never turned a hair,
Fer when I tired o' hearin' 'em, I jes' played solitaire.

Thank Heaven I ain't no stubborn fool; I got some common sense;
I take my law fr'm th' jedge, 'y jing, an' I sift th' evidence;
But when it comes to my idees, wal, I ain't on th' fence.

They all got middlin' temperish when th' court-house clock struck nine;
But nary a one of 'em guv in, clear down th' stubborn line;
They jes' adhered to their idees an' I adhered t' mine.

John Scruggs, he 'lowed t' calcalate the jury orto rise;
He had some chores t' do at hum an' he said he'd compermise;
An' I said I'd stay till they let him off — er th' stars fell fr'm th' skies.

'Twas 'long 'bout midnight time, I guess; I'd beat my sixteenth game
O' solitaire, an' th' light burned dim with a sickly sort o' flame,
When Jason Benson up an' 'lowed how I was all t' blame!

I riz right up fr'm off my cheer an' fetched him one so free
That I 'low y' couldn't count th' stars that Jason Benson see;
An' Jason's cousin (through his first wife) he tuk a smash at me!

We mixed it purty middlin' warm; Wash Jenkins, he struck out
At Jason's cousin (through his first wife) an' fetched him sech a clout
That his nose was flatter 'n griddle-cakes, an' th' blood jes' spurted out.

Hamp Hawkins slid down underneath th' table — Hamp was slim —
But someone guv th' lamp a shove an' overturned th' glim.
Hamp's clothes tuk fire fr'm th' kerosene an' durn nigh finished him .

Win Watson mounted of a cheer an' jes' begin t' shout
" Peace! Peace! " when Jason Benson he fetched him a rousin' clout
That laid Win len'thwise on th' floor, knocked plumb, completely out!

Then Scruggs he laid a-holt o' me, an' Jason grabbed my throat,
Both holdin' on so cussed tight I couldn't peel my coat,
An' Jason's cousin (through his first wife), he says: " Let's take a vote! "

Then all of 'em voted fer his guilt — every las' one but me;
They never had no notion 't all of tryin' to agree,
So I went back t' solitaire, fer y' can't bluff Silas Lee.

Now that's th' livin', gospel truth, fer any man t' read,
It ain't fixed up t' favor me, an' it ain't no lyin' screed;
Ez fur ez I'm consarned, 'y jing, th' jury was agreed!