The Crowd,-Ha, Ha, Ha!
(Lincoln rolls his eyes and makes up a face.)
Second Farmer,—Let's have thet song o' yours about Crawford's blue nose. An' don't leave out a single pimple on the ugly old stub.
The Crowd,—Ha, Ha, Ha!
Abe (smiling),—I reckon Crawford would give me his life of Washington if he could change that nose. It was a bad thing for him when he made me work three days for him to pay for that book I had borrowed. To be sure it was hurt a good deal in the rain that beat in through the rafters by my bed, but I meant to be careful of it.
Baldwin,—But a song! not the one about Crawford,—you've sung that enough; let's have the one about Jackson. We're all Jackson men here to-night.
(Lincoln sings in a queer cracked voice.)
"Let auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind
And Jackson be our President
And Adams left behind."
Second Farmer,—Let's have "Poor Old Ned," Abe. You can do that better. (Laughter
