Friends, I ain't never seed nothin' lak hit an' your humble reporter scratches whur I eeches, I don't kare who sees me.
Me an' The Donald is purty upset 'cause hit looks lak neither one 'uv us won fur pressydint.
I don't understand hit. Four 'er five people have told me they voted fur me fur pressydint but they didn't kount no votes fur me a'tall during the 'lection. I thanks I done bin cheated.
I wuz gonna protest by sottin' down in the middle 'uv 27 an' blockin' traffic. But I'm skeared 'cause I'm 'fraid onna these good ol' boys in a pickup will run square over me.
As soon as hit warms up a little I'm going out c'here on Pitman Creek whur I wuz gonna move the White House an' sot down, lean aginst a tree an' tak me a nap.
I knows on thang. Since me an' The Donald wudn't 'lected pressydint, you'ins ain't gonna git no stem'u'lus chek. Your humble reporter ain't gonna git none neither an' I don't no how I gonna keep myself in chewin' tobakker.
Lady folks who dips snuff may hav a hard time gittin' a can. Surves you'ins r'at fur not votin' fur me to be you'ins pressydint.
I wuz gonna git me a new pare 'uv overhauls fur Christmas, but I looked as the prices an' sume britches wuz $79.95 a pare. Kin you'ins bulieve that?
If'n you'ins had 'lected your humble reporter fur pressydint, I wudda made AmaryKerr Grate A'gin an' overhauls wudda bin $2.98 a pare.
Wait till you'ins buy your nex stand 'uv lard. At today's prices, you'ins will wush Humble wuz pressydint. The lard stands with no lard in 'em, sells fur nearly a hundred dollars. Must be a suvverneer 'er sumethang.
I wuz gonna bil me a new outhouse with the money I made fir bein' pressydint. Hit look lak now I'll hafta go out a'hind the barn.
I hates that, friends. The chikens keeps pekkin' at you'ins whilst you'ins do your bizness. Sides that, hit ain't sannyterry.
We didn't have no outhouse bak home in Taylor County. We had one but the wind blow'd hit over an' we never did hav the money to git lumber to bil hit bak.
On a real cold day, us kids wud go on the sunny side 'uv the house up nex to the chimley. At nite, we'd use a slop jar an' push hit bak 'neath the bed.
We wuz 'bout to starve to deth on the farm an' daddy finally got a job in town. We muved into a rent house that had door knobs. In the kountry we had wudden latches that helt the door shut. Me an' Brother had us a good time openin' and shuttin' doors with them new-fangled door knobs.
The wuddnt let us hav no outhouse in town. The rent house had onna 'em flush ti'lets but me an Brother wuz 'fraid to use hit 'cause we didn' no whur that water went whin we pulled the handle. An' hit had a sign on hit that sed you'ins cuddn't use no corn cobs.