Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1880-04-10
UNCLE JOsHwAY's "ARGY."

Brud' Natty call an you wouldn't hear,
Too late, too late!
Brud Natty call an you wouldn't hear.
Too late, too ="
"Stop dat rackit an open dis heah
do, Anarky. You'se got it shet fasser'n
Hebben's do, er Satum's do elder"
growled the Colonel from the outside,
interrupting Aunty Anarky's hymn.
"Stidder singin bout yO' Brud' Natty
call an you wouldn't hear, you better
had say, Brud' Joshway call an you
ten not ter hear. Bin holm fur you
to spen dis heah do tell I'm hose"
"Open do yO' SET, boy, what's gwine
to hender?'
Joshway's voice quavered little as
he replied, sole oman, I'm in struss?"
On hearing that he was in " struss y
the og-cabin-in-the-lane of "distress :"
Aunt Anarky flew, with all " mans
sympathy. and opened the door. There,
with hands hanging helplessly by his
side, face bruised and swollen, and head
held to one side as if twas unscrewed,
stood Joshway, tattered, groaning and
discOnsOlate.
"Good laws amussy! What name o.
pashunts 'smatter?''
L" Hush Anarky, doan' stop to talk.
Put sheepskin an a sof' pillar in dat
big cheer an rummige roun' for de mus
tangle linimeant."
"But what ails you? Mule kick
you?"
"No."
"Hoss froed you in de brier patch?
You'se de scratched-upest Chrischun l
ever seed in all my bawn days!"
"Ain't nuthin' much matter 'cep' me
an Dock NOSE had der auawil, an I'm
nose kilt
"What you NOSE had der quawil
'bout?'
"Lawdy, Anarky, you womens is all
got mo- curiosity an axes mo- queschuns
den scatterkism! Ugh! Collar-bone
of my shoulders plum 'slocated out er
joint! Got tenny Operdildoc? Ouch!"
"Yes, but what s matter? Look like
you'd ben druv through saw mill, er q
gin, an den bin pack up like cott'n bale.
How come it?'
"Dair it's agin! mo- curiosity den
den" and the Colonel, failing to find
any thing celestial or terrestrial to COM
pare to woman's curiosity, finished with
an emphatic eden nuthin'!"
"Yo' clo'es is mighty to'ed up, yO'
face look wusser'n l dunno what, an
"An' my brains is frackshunned.'
"Yes, yo' brains is frackshunned, 1
resk'n; but who done it?"
swell, me an'-s'posen you make
up clay poultus to 'swaige down de
swellin'ness of my face-me an Dock
gotter talkin' bout dawgs, den we
made little argy-dough he dasn't
fetch me. D."
"Den, eff he dasn't fetch you, who
scratched, an beat, and fout you SOP"
"Me an him made little argy bout
dawgs-he so bigotty-he say as how
his coon dawg was ikelier coon dawg
den mine, an JUS 'cus l con dickt him
an say my coon dawg's de 'liabule
coon dawg dat ever barked up boiler
tree, an could outketch his'n all ter
frazzlins, an didn't halter be sicked on,
nuther, like his POI old hungry hOun'-
pose Jobs tuckey, an look like 'tadn't
ta'se AIRY moufle vittles in yeah-he
gins to c'mence maxim his argy mo-
vygo's, dough he dasn't fetch me! Y
reck'n my jaw'l be swaiged down by
mex meetin' day?"
Erred not. But look heah, Joshway,
how you git all desc woundses? How
come you so fairfield discombObora-
ted?"
swell, in co'se de con'sation me an
nudder brick sorter come in contrack,
am
"Who froed dad dair brick?"
"Dair was 'siddulbe rails an rubbige
an bricks an pine knots permulgatin'
deyseves frew de air endlIrin' de argy;
AM wush you'd git s'mo' ole rags
an tie up de elbow q my tudder arm
its sprainded; but he dasn't fetch me-"