Vulgar words in The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 56, June, 1862 (Page 1)
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~ ~ ~ Sentence 3,284 ~ ~ ~
Ther' 's times when I'm unsoshle ez a stone, An' sort o' suffocate to be alone,-- I'm crowded jes' to think thet folks are nigh, An' can't bear nothin' closer than the sky; Now the wind's full ez shifty in the mind Ez wut it is ou'-doors, ef I ain't blind, An' sometimes, in the fairest sou'west weather, My innard vane pints east for weeks together, My natur' gits all goose-flesh, an' my sins Come drizzlin' on my conscience sharp ez pins: Wal, et sech times I jes' slip out o' sight An' take it out in a fair stan'-up fight With the one cuss I can't lay on the shelf, The crook'dest stick in all the heap,--Myself.