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west wind dries out the corn, Jim will say, 

 as he stands harnessing at morning, to An- 

 drew, the cropper, " Putty rough on yo' spike- 

 team, Brer Andrew dis yere rain ; but my 

 mules oh, shucks ! man, 'taint no mud can 

 stop dem not dis side whar daddy lived 

 back yonder in ole Ferginey." 



