Friends, I ain't never seed nothin' lak hit an' your humble reporter ust to go to the hardware store with Pa an' look at the doller watches an' Barlow nives on Satiddy nite.
I ain't got no ree'ports 'uv a katydid hollerin' this summer. If'n any 'uv my weather watchers has hear'd one, be shore an' let me no. Ol' timers will tell you'ins the furst frost will fall 90 days after the furst katydid hollers.
Hit's m'portant, friends. Your humble reporter has got to git his sweet taters dug a'fore the frost kills the vines. I'm skeared globul warmin' has kilt all the katydids.
Whin I gits to be you'ins nex pressydint, I rekon I won't have to grow no garden stuff. I hear tell a pressydint maks purt neart a doller a day. With that kinda money I kin keep myself in chewin' tobakker.
I'm runnin' my still 24 hours a day to mak 'nough 'leckshion whiskey to karry Pu'lasski County. I thanks if'n I kin karry Pu'lasski County I kin beet The Donald. I don't pay no 'tention to 'em Demmerkrats on the tellyvision makin' all kinda promises lak free kollege eggykation an' sich. They sho don't promise no chiken in ever pot lak your humble reporter do.
Friends, your humble reporter ain't got no kollege eggykation. I graguiated frum the thurd grade with honors. Hit took me 3 years to git throu the thurd grade but they told me I wuz the best speler in my class. I mite hav hadda gone 'nother year but I wuz to big to fit in my seat.
I kin kount to, uain' my fingers an' toes. When Cleat Estes, this honored journal's offishial fog kounter, rites down the foggy mornin's in August on his drug store callynder, your humble reporter kounts 'em an' maks my snow predickshion. The number 'uv foggy mornin's in August tells the number of rabbit trakin' snows we'ins gonna hav this cummin winter. Me an' Cleat hit our predickshion r'at on the nose last winter.
'Long 'bout the furst 'uv Septimber, while hits still 90 in the shade, your humble reporter will mak my annual WINTER WEATHER FURCAST. I use the black on the wully wurms back, how high hornets nestes are and how thick corn shucks is to tell how cold hits gonna be. I ain't hardly never seed hit fail.
Friends, I cudn't tell the weather a'tall if'n hit wudn't fur my bevy 'uv weather watchers. The job don't pay much but sumebody's got to do hit, I rekon.
I shore 'preciate hit whin onna my weather watchers calls me Pressydint Humble. I walk 'round lak I got corn fur sale.
Friends, your humble reporter is gonna mak you'ins the best pressydint you'ins has ever had. I'm gonna brang the White House down c'here on Pitman Creek so we'ins kin go over thar an' git our cheks whin we run outta chewin' tobakker.
I'm goin' to the bak door ever mornin' an' TWITTER jest lak The Donald. I ain't gonna ree'leese my incume tax 'cause I din't mak 'nough money to file. I bin a p'or tacky all my life.
I'm gonna issue onna 'em exzeggative odders raisin' the price 'uv pay ti'lets frum a dime to a quarter. I'll use the x'tra money to put on a varmit supper fur Mr. Pootin an' The Rocket Man. I shore hopes they votes fur me.
'Member, if'n you'ins wanna Mak Amarykerr Grate A'gin, vote as many times as you'ins kin fur Humble Fur Pressydint.