The poem
No, I'm a man, I'm vull a man, You beat my manhood, if you can. You'll be a man if you can teake All steates that household life do meake. The love-toss'd child, a-croodlen loud, The bwoy a-screamen wild in play, The tall grown youth a-steppen proud, The father staid, the house's stay. No ; I can boast if others can, I'm vull a man.
A young-cheak'd mother's tears mid vall, When woone a-lost, not half man-tall, Vrom little hand, a-called vrom play, Do leave noo tool, but drop a tay, An' die avore he's father-free To sheape his life by his own plan; An' vull an angel he shall be, But here on e'th not vull a man, No; I could boast if others can, I'm vull a man.
I woonce, a child, wer father-fed, An' I've a-vound my childern bread; My earm, a sister's trusty crook, Is now a faithvul wife's own hook; An' I've agone where vo'k did zend, An' gone upon my own free mind, An' of'en at my own wits' end. A-led o' God while I were blind. No; I could boast if others can, I'm vull a man.
An' still, ov all my tweil ha' won, My loven maid an' merry son, Though each in turn's a jay an' ceare, 'Ve a-had, an' still shall have, their sheare An' then, if God should bless their lives, Why I mid zend vrom son to son My life, right on drough men an' wives, As long, good now, as time do run. No, I could boast if others can, I'm vull a man.