THE ARKANSAS TRAVELER AND THE TU

By Fred W. Allsopp	But am wet and near exhausted,	Squatter
(In Rimeries)	Which is why you are accosted,	"Road goes nowhar' far's I knows, sir;
(An Old Prose Story Retold and	And I wish to have some brany	Hits thar alwuz when I wak'n
Expanded into Rhyme)	If you have a wee bit handy."	Still thar nights when supper's tak'n
Years ago, a stranger, weary,	Squatter	But if ter th' Rock yer ridin'
Chanced upon a mountain hovel,	"Naw, Sal used hit all fer toddy,	That-a-way 'yer shud be glidin.' "
In a region lone and dreary,	Na're a drap fer anybody,	(pointing south)
Under circumstances novel.	An' I'm thirsty as th' fishes;	Traveler
There a squatter twanged a fiddle,	Sorry I can't meet yer wishes."	"Well, how far to where the forks are?"
Seated on a whiskey-barrel	Little Boy	Squatter
Clearly he a human riddle,	"Pop, there's whiskey in the cellar."	"Hard ter tell erbout th' forks thar,
With a tendency to quarrel.	Squatter	But roads split up like th' devil
Traveler.	"You go in the house, young feller!	Up above here, on the level."
"Hello, stranger, how'r you comin?"	Traveler	Traveler
Squatter	"Might I have a bite to eat, sir?"	"Good man, as I cannot travel,
"How'de ranger-jest a hummin.'"	Squatter	Let me rest here, without cavil;
Traveler	"We have neither bread nor meat, sir,	I will tie to that tree yonder,
"Could you lodge me for the night sir?"	Haint a d--- thing in th' house, sir--	And my future movements ponder."
Squatter	Not ernuf ter feed a mouse, sir."	Squatter
"No, not by a h--l o'a sight, sir,"--	Traveler	"Naw, the cabin's awrful leaky,
His old home-made fiddle clasping	"But you'll give my horse some fodder?"	My ole gol-darn roof is freaky;
And monotonously rasping,	Squatter	Thar is only one dry spot thar,
Never pausing in his playing	"Nuthin' for th' sorrel plodder."	Me and Sal's ole bunk is sot thar;
To heed what his guest was saying.	Traveler	Then yo' knows what freaks are wimmin,
Traveler	"How far to the next house is it?"	An' that tree is her persimmin,
"Though it may of boldness savor,	Squatter	Yo' can't tie ter hit, I fear, sir
I will ask a slightest favor	"I don't know; I neva visit."	'Cause she 'lows ter make some beer, sir
Have you any spirits 'round here?"	Traveler	An' don't want th' fruit shuk off hit;
Squatter	"How long have you lived here, mister?"	She'd raise h----, or I'm no prophit."
"Oh, yes, lots of ha'nts are found here:	Squatter	Traveler
	"Forty year, you ole persister."	"If the question is not cheeky,
Sal seen one out nigh th' gum tree,	Traveler	Why not mend the roof that's leaky?"
An' hit scared an' made her grumpy."	"Pardon me, what might your name be?"	Squatter
Traveler	Squatter	"Cause hits rainin'; I can't mend hit."
"You mistake my meaning, pardner;	"Wall, hit mout be Tom or Jamie	Traveler
How's the liquor in your larder?"	But hit happens to be neither	"But, when dry, why not attend it?"
Squatter	Though mine haint a bad name, either."	Squatter
"Yesterday we had some leeker,	Traveler	"Cause when dry hit doesn't need hit."
But, Bose lopped hit up, th' sneaker."	"Little Rock's in what direction?
Traveler	Tell a stranger to this section
"Still you fail to grasp my meaning;	Where the road you live on goes, sir?"
I am not pot-liquor gleaning,