Chapter XXIV: The Labor Situation

“Don’t hardly seem fair,” said Bill with a hitch

Tew his gallus—the other was busted—

“Fer the papers an’ all, the public an’ sich”—
An’ I seen he was kind o’ disgusted—

“Ter praise up the workers ter home an’ not fitin’
An’ gittin’ all kinds o’ big pay,

An’ ’en strikin’ fer more—_Whoa thar! Quit yer bitin’!_”—

He was combin’ an breshin’ ol’ Gray—

“When the boys ‘over thar’ give up all thet they hed

Ter fite fer thirty bones per”—

An’ I couldn’t ezzac’ly tell what ’e nex’ said,
Fer ’is comb hed ketched in a burr.