Society and the World

A Noted Traveler

Even in such a scene of senseless play
The children were surprised one summer-day
By a strange man who called across the fence,
Inquiring for their father's residence;
And, being answered that this was the place,
Opened the gate, and with a radiant face,
Came in and sat down with them in the shade
And waited--till the absent father made
His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest
That told he had no ordinary guest
In this man whose low-spoken name he knew
At once, demurring as the stranger drew
A stuffy notebook out and turned and set
A big fat finger on a page and let
The writing thereon testify instead
Of further speech. And as the father read
All silently, the curious children took
Exacting inventory both of book
And man:--He wore a long-napped white fur-hat
Pulled firmly on his head, and under that
Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray--
For he was not an old man,--anyway,
Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair
Of square-framed spectacles--or rather there
Were two more than a pair,--the extra two
Flared at the corners, at the eyes' side-view,
In as redundant vision as the eyes
Of grasshoppers or bees or dragonflies.
Later the children heard the father say
He was 'A Noted Traveler,' and would stay
Some days with them--In which time host and guest
Discussed, alone, in deepest interest,
Some vague, mysterious matter that defied
The wistful children, loitering outside
The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite
New list of big words--such as 'Disunite,'
And 'Shibboleth,' and 'Aristocracy,'
And 'Juggernaut,' and 'Squatter Sovereignty,'
And 'Anti-slavery,' 'Emancipate,'
'Irrepressible conflict,' and 'The Great
Battle of Armageddon'--obviously
A pamphlet brought from Washington, D. C.,
And spread among such friends as might occur
Of like views with 'The Noted Traveler.'

A Noted Traveler

Even in such a scene of senseless play
The children were surprised one summer-day
By a strange man who called across the fence,
Inquiring for their father's residence;
And, being answered that this was the place,
Opened the gate, and with a radiant face,
Came in and sat down with them in the shade
And waited--till the absent father made
His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest
That told he had no ordinary guest
In this man whose low-spoken name he knew
At once, demurring as the stranger drew
A stuffy notebook out and turned and set
A big fat finger on a page and let
The writing thereon testify instead
Of further speech. And as the father read
All silently, the curious children took
Exacting inventory both of book
And man:--He wore a long-napped white fur-hat
Pulled firmly on his head, and under that
Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray--
For he was not an old man,--anyway,
Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair
Of square-framed spectacles--or rather there
Were two more than a pair,--the extra two
Flared at the corners, at the eyes' side-view,
In as redundant vision as the eyes
Of grasshoppers or bees or dragonflies.
Later the children heard the father say
He was 'A Noted Traveler,' and would stay
Some days with them--In which time host and guest
Discussed, alone, in deepest interest,
Some vague, mysterious matter that defied
The wistful children, loitering outside
The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite
New list of big words--such as 'Disunite,'
And 'Shibboleth,' and 'Aristocracy,'
And 'Juggernaut,' and 'Squatter Sovereignty,'
And 'Anti-slavery,' 'Emancipate,'
'Irrepressible conflict,' and 'The Great
Battle of Armageddon'--obviously
A pamphlet brought from Washington, D. C.,
And spread among such friends as might occur
Of like views with 'The Noted Traveler.'

A New Year's Time At Willards's

1
The Hired Man Talks

There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an'
There's me-- an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!

Well now, old Willards hain't so bad,
Considerin' the chance he's had.
Of course, he's rich, an' sleeps an' eats
Whenever he's a mind to: Takes
An' leans back in the Amen-seats
An' thanks the Lord fer all he makes--.
That's purty much all folks has got
Ag'inst the old man, like as not!
But there's his woman-- jes the turn
Of them-air two wild girls o' hern-Marg'et
an' S'repty-- allus in
Fer any cuttin'-up concern--
Church festibals, and foolishin'
Round Christmas-trees, an' New Year's sprees--
Set up to watch the Old Year go
An' New Year come-- sich things as these;
An' turkey-dinners, don't you know!
S'repty's younger, an' more gay,
An' purtier, an' finer dressed
Than Marg'et is-- but, lawzy-day!
She hain't the independentest!
'Take care!' old Willards used to say,
'Take care--! Let Marg'et have her way,
An' S'repty, you go off an' play
On your melodeum--!' But, best
Of all, comes Tomps! An' I'll be bound,
Ef he hain't jes the beatin'est
Young chap in all the country round!
Ef you knowed Tomps you'd like him, shore!
They hain't no man on top o' ground
Walks into my affections more--!
An' all the Settlement'll say
That Tomps was liked jes thataway
By ever'body, till he tuk
A shine to S'repty Willards--. Then
You'd ort'o see the old man buck
An' h'ist hisse'f, an' paw the dirt,
An' hint that 'common workin'-men
That didn't want their feelin's hurt
'Ud better hunt fer 'comp'ny' where
The folks was pore an' didn't care--!'
The pine-blank facts is--, the old man,
Last Christmas was a year ago,
Found out some presents Tomps had got


Fer S'repty, an' hit made him hot--
Set down an' tuk his pen in hand
An' writ to Tomps an' told him so
On legal cap, in white an' black,
An' give him jes to understand
'No Christmas-gifts o' 'lily-white'
An' bear's-ile could fix matters right,'
An' wropped 'em up an' sent 'em back!
Well, S'repty cried an' snuffled round
Consid'able. But Marg'et she
Toed out another sock, an' wound
Her knittin' up, an' drawed the tea,
An' then set on the supper-things,
An' went up in the loft an' dressed--
An' through it all you'd never guessed
What she was up to! An' she brings
Her best hat with her an her shawl,
An' gloves, an' redicule, an' all,
An' injirubbers, an' comes down
An' tells 'em she's a-goin' to town
To he'p the Christmas goin's-on
Her Church got up. An' go she does--
The best hosswoman ever was!
'An' what'll We do while you're gone?'
The old man says, a-tryin' to be
Agreeable. 'Oh! You?' says she--,
'You kin jaw S'repty, like you did,
An' slander Tomps!' An' off she rid!


Now, this is all I'm goin' to tell
Of this-here story-- that is, I
Have done my very level best
As fur as this, an' here I 'dwell,'
As auctioneers says, winkin' sly:
Hit's old man Willards tells the rest.


2
The Old Man Talks


Adzackly jes one year ago,
This New Year's day, Tomps comes to me--
In my own house, an' whilse the folks
Was gittin' dinner--, an' he pokes
His nose right in, an' says, says he:
'I got yer note-- an' read it slow!
You don't like me, ner I don't you,'
He says--, 'we're even there, you know!
But you've said, furder that no gal
Of yourn kin marry me, er shall,
An' I'd best shet off comin', too!'
An' then he says--, 'Well, them's Your views--;
But havin' talked with S'repty, we



Have both agreed to disagree
With your peculiar notions-- some;
An', that s the reason, I refuse
To quit a-comin' here, but come--
Not fer to threat, ner raise no skeer
An' spile yer turkey-dinner here--,
But jes fer S'repty's sake, to sheer
Yer New Year's. Shall I take a cheer?'


Well, blame-don! Ef I ever see
Sich impidence! I couldn't say
Not nary word! But Mother she
Sot out a cheer fer Tomps, an' they
Shuk hands an' turnt their back on me.
Then I riz-- mad as mad could be--!
But Marg'et says--, 'Now, Pap! You set
Right where you're settin'--! Don't you fret!
An' Tomps-- you warm yer feet!' says she,
'An throw yer mitts an' comfert on
The bed there! Where is S'repty gone!
The cabbage is a-scortchin'! Ma,
Stop cryin' there an' stir the slaw!'
Well--! What was Mother cryin' fer--?
I half riz up-- but Marg'et's chin
Hit squared-- an' I set down ag'in--
I allus was afeard o' her,
I was, by jucks! So there I set,
Betwixt a sinkin'-chill an' sweat,
An' scuffled with my wrath, an' shet
My teeth to mighty tight, you bet!
An' yit, fer all that I could do,
I eeched to jes git up an' whet
The carvin'-knife a rasp er two
On Tomps's ribs-- an' so would you--!
Fer he had riz an' faced around,
An' stood there, smilin', as they brung
The turkey in, all stuffed an' browned--
Too sweet fer nose, er tooth, er tongue!
With sniffs o' sage, an' p'r'aps a dash
Of old burnt brandy, steamin'-hot
Mixed kindo' in with apple-mash
An' mince-meat, an' the Lord knows what!
Nobody was a-talkin' then,
To 'filiate any awk'ardness--
No noise o' any kind but jes
The rattle o' the dishes when
They'd fetch 'em in an' set 'em down,
An' fix an' change 'em round an' round,
Like women does-- till Mother says--,
'Vittels is ready; Abner, call
Down S'repty-- she's up-stairs, I guess--.'
And Marg'et she says, 'Ef you bawl



Like that, she'll not come down at all!
Besides, we needn't wait till she
Gits down! Here Temps, set down by me,
An' Pap: say grace...!' Well, there I was--!
What could I do! I drapped my head
Behind my fists an' groaned; an' said--:
'Indulgent Parent! In Thy cause
We bow the head an' bend the knee
An' break the bread, an' pour the wine,
Feelin'--' (The stair-door suddently
Went bang! An' S'repty flounced by me--)
'Feelin',' I says, 'this feast is Thine--
This New Year's feast--' an' rap-rap-rap!
Went Marg'ets case-knife on her plate--
An' next, I heerd a sasser drap--,
Then I looked up, an' strange to state,
There S'repty set in Tomps lap--
An' huggin' him, as shore as fate!
An' Mother kissin' him k-slap!
An' Marg'et-- she chips in to drap
The ruther peert remark to me--:
'That 'grace' o' yourn,' she says, 'won't 'gee'--
This hain't no 'New Year's feast,'' says she--,
'This is a' Infair-Dinner, Pap!'


An' so it was--! Be'n married fer
Purt' nigh a week--! 'Twas Marg'et planned
The whole thing fer 'em, through an' through.
I'm rickonciled; an' understand,
I take things jes as they occur--,
Ef Marg'et liked Tomps, Tomps 'ud do--!
But I-says-I, a-holt his hand--,
'I'm glad you didn't marry Her-'
Cause Marg'et's my guardeen-- yes-sir--!
An' S'repty's good enough fer you!'

A Monument For The Soldiers

A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?


And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
And out of our faith secure:
We would build it out of the great white truths
Their death hath sanctified,
And the sculptured forms of the men in arms,
And their faces ere they died.


And what heroic figures
Can the sculptor carve in stone?
Can the marble breast be made to bleed,
And the marble lips to moan?
Can the marble brow be fevered?
And the marble eyes be graved
To look their last, as the flag floats past,
On the country they have saved?


And the answer came: The figures
Shall all be fair and brave,
And, as befitting, as pure and white
As the stars above their grave!
The marble lips, and breast and brow
Whereon the laurel lies,
Bequeath us right to guard the flight
Of the old flag in the skies!


A monument for the Soldiers!
Built of a people's love,
And blazoned and decked and panoplied
With the hearts ye build it oft
And see that ye build it stately,
In pillar and niche and gate,
And high in pose as the souls of those
It would commemorate!

A Monument For The Soldiers

A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?


And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
And out of our faith secure:
We would build it out of the great white truths
Their death hath sanctified,
And the sculptured forms of the men in arms,
And their faces ere they died.


And what heroic figures
Can the sculptor carve in stone?
Can the marble breast be made to bleed,
And the marble lips to moan?
Can the marble brow be fevered?
And the marble eyes be graved
To look their last, as the flag floats past,
On the country they have saved?


And the answer came: The figures
Shall all be fair and brave,
And, as befitting, as pure and white
As the stars above their grave!
The marble lips, and breast and brow
Whereon the laurel lies,
Bequeath us right to guard the flight
Of the old flag in the skies!


A monument for the Soldiers!
Built of a people's love,
And blazoned and decked and panoplied
With the hearts ye build it oft
And see that ye build it stately,
In pillar and niche and gate,
And high in pose as the souls of those
It would commemorate!

A Man Of Many Parts

It was a man of many parts,
Who in his coffer mind
Had stored the Classics and the Arts
And Sciences combined;
The purest gems of poesy
Came flashing from his pen--
The wholesome truths of History
He gave his fellow men.


He knew the stars from 'Dog' to Mars;
And he could tell you, too,
Their distances--as though the cars
Had often checked him through--
And time 'twould take to reach the sun,
Or by the 'Milky Way,'
Drop in upon the moon, or run
The homeward trip, or stay.


With Logic at his fingers' ends,
Theology in mind,
He often entertained his friends
Until they died resigned;
And with inquiring mind intent
Upon Alchemic arts
A dynamite experiment-.
. . . . . .
A man of many parts!

A Man Of Many Parts

It was a man of many parts,
Who in his coffer mind
Had stored the Classics and the Arts
And Sciences combined;
The purest gems of poesy
Came flashing from his pen--
The wholesome truths of History
He gave his fellow men.


He knew the stars from 'Dog' to Mars;
And he could tell you, too,
Their distances--as though the cars
Had often checked him through--
And time 'twould take to reach the sun,
Or by the 'Milky Way,'
Drop in upon the moon, or run
The homeward trip, or stay.


With Logic at his fingers' ends,
Theology in mind,
He often entertained his friends
Until they died resigned;
And with inquiring mind intent
Upon Alchemic arts
A dynamite experiment-.
. . . . . .
A man of many parts!

A Good Man

I

A good man never dies--
In worthy deed and prayer
And helpful hands, and honest eyes,
If smiles or tears be there:
Who lives for you and me--
Lives for the world he tries
To help--he lives eternally.
A good man never dies.


II


Who lives to bravely take
His share of toil and stress,
And, for his weaker fellows' sake,
Makes every burden less,--
He may, at last, seem worn--
Lie fallen--hands and eyes
Folded--yet, though we mourn and mourn,
A good man never dies.

A Full Harvest

Seems like a feller'd ort 'o jes' to-day
Git down and roll and waller, don't you know,
In that-air stubble, and flop up and crow,
Seein' sich craps! I'll undertake to say
There're no wheat's ever turned out thataway
Afore this season!--Folks is keerless tho',
And too fergitful--'caze we'd ort 'o show
More thankfulness!--Jes' looky hyonder, hey?--
And watch that little reaper wadin' thue
That last old yaller hunk o' harvest-ground--
Jes' natchur'ly a-slicin' it in-two
Like honey-comb, and gaumin' it around
The field--like it had nothin' else to do
On'y jes' waste it all on me and you!

A Cup Of Tea

I have sipped, with drooping lashes,
Dreamy draughts of Verzenay;
I have flourished brandy-smashes
In the wildest sort of way;
I have joked with 'Tom and Jerry'
Till wee hours ayont the twal'--
But I've found my tea the very
Safest tipple of them all!


'Tis a mystical potation
That exceeds in warmth of glow
And divine exhilaration
All the drugs of long ago--
All of old magicians' potions--
Of Medea's filtered spells--
Or of fabled isles and oceans
Where the Lotos-eater dwells!


Though I've reveled o'er late lunches
With _blase_ dramatic stars,
And absorbed their wit and punches
And the fumes of their cigars--
Drank in the latest story,
With a cock-tail either end,--
I have drained a deeper glory
In a cup of tea, my friend.


Green, Black, Moyune, Formosa,
Congou, Amboy, Pingsuey--
No odds the name it knows--ah!
Fill a cup of it for me!
And, as I clink my china
Against your goblet's brim,
My tea in steam shall twine a
Fragrant laurel round its rim.

A Canary At The Farm

Folks has be'n to town, and Sahry
Fetched 'er home a pet canary--,
And of all the blame', contrary,
Aggervatin' things alive!
I love music-- that I love it
When it's free-- and plenty of it--;
But I kindo' git above it,
At a dollar-eighty-five!


Reason's plain as I'm a-sayin'--,
Jes' the idy, now, o' layin'
Out yer money, and a-payin'
Fer a willer-cage and bird,
When the medder-larks is wingin'
Round you, and the woods is ringin'
With the beautifullest singin'
That a mortal ever heard!


Sahry's sot, tho'--. So I tell her
He's a purty little feller,
With his wings o' creamy-yeller,
And his eyes keen as a cat;
And the twitter o' the critter
'Pears to absolutely glitter!
Guess I'll haf to go and git her
A high-priceter cage 'n that!

Winds of May

Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing a ring-around in glee
From furrow to furrow, while overhead
The foam flies up to be garlanded,
In silvery arches spanning the air,
Saw you my true love anywhere?
Welladay! Welladay!
For the winds of May!
Love is unhappy when love is away!

Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba

I heard their young hearts crying
Loveward above the glancing oar
And heard the prairie grasses sighing:
No more, return no more!


O hearts, O sighing grasses,
Vainly your loveblown bannerets mourn!
No more will the wild wind that passes
Return, no more return.

When the Shy Star Goes Forth in Heaven

When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.


O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling.
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant,
'Tis I that am your visitant.

Tilly


He travels after a winter sun,
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
Calling to them, a voice they know,
He drives his beasts above Cabra.


The voice tells them home is warm.
They moo and make brute music with their hoofs.
He drives them with a flowering branch before him,
Smoke pluming their foreheads.


Boor, bond of the herd,
Tonight stretch full by the fire!
I bleed by the black stream
For my torn bough!

Strings in the Earth and Air

Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.


There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.


All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.

Be Not Sad

Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again -- -
Can they dishonour you?


They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.

A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

They mouth love's language. Gnash
The thirteen teeth
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.
Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung,
As sour as cat's breath,
Harsh of tongue.


This grey that stares
Lies not, stark skin and bone.
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.
Dire hunger holds his hour.
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.
Pluck and devour!

Trees


But a tree has

a long suffering shapeIs
spread in half
by 2 limbed fate

Rises from gray rain
pavements
To traffic in the bleak

brown air
Of cities radar television
nameless dumb &numb mis connicumb
Throwing twigs the
color of ink To white souled
heaven, with
A reality of its own uses

Nebraska


April doesnt hurt here
Like it does in New England
The ground
Vast and brown
Surrounds dry towns
Located in the dust
Of the coming locust
Live for survival, not for 'kicks'
Be a bangtail describer,
like of shrouded traveler
in Textile tenement & the birds fighting in yr ears-like Burroughs exact to describe &
gettin $
The Angry Hunger
(hunger is anger)
who fears the
hungry feareth
the angry)
And so I came home
To Golden far away
Twas on the horizon
Every blessed day
As we rolled And we rolled
From Donner tragic Pass
Thru April in Nevada And out Salt City Way Into the dry Nebraskas And sad Wyomings
Where young girls And pretty lover boys
With Mickey Mantle eyes
Wander under moons
Sawing in lost cradle
And Judge O Fasterc
Passes whiggling by To ask of young love: ,,Was it the same wind Of April Plains eve
that ruffled the dress
Of my lost love
Louanna
In the Western
Far off night
Lost as the whistle
Of the passing Train
Everywhere West
Roams moaning
The deep basso

-Vom! Vom!
-Was it the same love
Notified my bones As mortify yrs now
Children of the soft
Wyoming April night?
Couldna been!
But was! But was!'
And on the prairie
The wildflower blows
In the night For bees & birds And sleeping hidden Animals of life.
The Chicago
Spitters in the spotty street

Cheap beans, loop, Girls made eyes at me And I had 35 Cents in my jeans -
Then Toledo
Springtime starry
Lover night Of hot rod boys And cool girls A wandering
A wandering
In search of April pain A plash of rain
Will not dispel This fumigatin hell Of lover lane This park of roses Blue as bees
In former airy poses
In aerial O Way hoses
No tamarand And figancine Can the musterand Be less kind
Sol -
Sol -
Bring forth yr Ah Sunflower - Ah me Montana
Phosphorescent Rose
And bridge in
fairly land
I'd understand it all -

Bus East

Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend
5 years ago - other furies other losses


America's
trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice

The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind

I'm
all thru playing the American
Now I'm going to live a good quiet life

The
world should be built for foot walkers

Oily
rivers Of spiney Nevady

I
am Jake Cake
Rake
Write like Blake

The
horse is not pleased Sight of his
gorgeous finery
in the dust Its silken
nostrils
did disgust

Cats
arent kind Kiddies anent sweet

April
in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties
In fields
of straw
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs
In wild headdress Pouring thru
the gap
In Wyoming plain
To make the settlers
Eat more dust than dust
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful
Plains
Of clazer vup

Saltry
settlers
Anxious to masturbate The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne -
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)

Bus East

Society has good intentions Bureaucracy is like a friend
5 years ago - other furies other losses


America's
trying to control the uncontrollable Forest fires, Vice

The essential smile In the essential sleep Of the children Of the essential mind

I'm
all thru playing the American
Now I'm going to live a good quiet life

The
world should be built for foot walkers

Oily
rivers Of spiney Nevady

I
am Jake Cake
Rake
Write like Blake

The
horse is not pleased Sight of his
gorgeous finery
in the dust Its silken
nostrils
did disgust

Cats
arent kind Kiddies anent sweet

April
in Nevada - Investigating Dismal Cheyenne Where the war parties
In fields
of straw
Aimed over oxen At Indian Chiefs
In wild headdress Pouring thru
the gap
In Wyoming plain
To make the settlers
Eat more dust than dust
was eaten In the States From East at Seacoast Where wagons made up To dreadful
Plains
Of clazer vup

Saltry
settlers
Anxious to masturbate The Mongol Sea (I'm too tired in Cheyenne -
No sleep in 4 nights now, & 2 to go)

th Chorus Mexico City Blues

Roosevelt was worth 6, 7 million dollars
He was Tight

Frog waits
Till poor fly
Flies by
And then they got him

The pool of clear rocks
Covered with vegetable scum
Covered the rocks
Clear the pool
Covered the warm surface
Covered the lotus
Dusted the watermelon flower
Aerial the Pad
Clean queer the clear
blue water

AND THEN THEY GOT HIM

The Oil of the Olive
Bittersweet taffies
Bittersweet cabbage
Cabbage soup made right
A hunk a grass
Sauerkraut let work
in a big barrel
Stunk but Good

th Chorus Mexico City Blues

Roosevelt was worth 6, 7 million dollars
He was Tight

Frog waits
Till poor fly
Flies by
And then they got him

The pool of clear rocks
Covered with vegetable scum
Covered the rocks
Clear the pool
Covered the warm surface
Covered the lotus
Dusted the watermelon flower
Aerial the Pad
Clean queer the clear
blue water

AND THEN THEY GOT HIM

The Oil of the Olive
Bittersweet taffies
Bittersweet cabbage
Cabbage soup made right
A hunk a grass
Sauerkraut let work
in a big barrel
Stunk but Good