A Philosopher/.

_Zack Bumstead Useter flosserfize, About the ocean an' the skies; An grab an' gas f'um morn till noon, About the other side of the moon; Am 'bout the natur of the place, Ten miles beyond the end of space. An' if his wife she'd ask the crank Ef he wouln't kinder try to yank hisself out-door's an' git some wood, To make her kitchen fire good, so she c'd bake her bean's 'an pies, He'd say, I've gotter flosserfize. An' then he'd set an' flosserfize About the natur an' the size of angles' wings, an' think, and gawp, An wonder how they make em flop. He'd calkerlate how long a skid "Twould take to move the sun, he did; An 'if the skid was strong an' prime, it couldn't be moved to supper time. An' w'en his wife 'd ask the lout Ef, he wouldn't kinder waltz about An' take a rag an' shoo the flies, He'd say, "I've gotter flosserfize.' An' then he'd set an' flosserfize 'Bout schemes for fencing in the skies, Then lettin' out the lot's to rent, So's he could make an honest cent. An' if he'd find it pooty tough To borry cash for fencin 'stuff. An' if 'twere best to take his wealth An' go to Europe for his health, or solve his cash till he'd enough To buy some more of fencin'-stuff; Then, ef his wife she'd ask the gump Ef, he wouldn't kinder try to hump Hisself to t'other side the door, sos he c'd come an' sweep the floor, He'd look at her with mournful eyes, An' say, "I've gotter flosserfize.' An' so he'd set an flosserfize 'Bout what it waz held up the skies, An' how God made this earthly ball' jest simply outer nawthin' 'tall, An' 'bout the natur, shape, an' from of nawthin' that he made it from. Then, ef his wife sh'd ask the freak Ef he wouldnt kinder try to sneak out to the barn an' find some aigs; But say, "Iv'e gotter flosserfize.