I want to learn the words to it; I'm plumb stuck on that piece.

It's different from the general run uh songs, don't yuh think?
Most of 'em's about your old home that yuh left in boyhood's happy days, and go back to find your girl dead and sleeping in a little church-yard or else it's your mother; or your girl marries the other man and you get it handed to yuh right along--and they make a fellow kinda sick to his stomach when he's got to sing 'em two or three hours at a stretch on night-guard, just because he's plumb ignorant of anything better.

This here Jerusalem one sounds kinda grand, and--the cattle seems to like it, too, for a change." "The composer would feel flattered if he heard that," Thurston laughed.
He wanted to be left alone to day-dream and watch the clouds trail lazily across to meet the hills; and there was an embryonic poem forming, phrase by phrase, in his mind.

But he couldn't refuse Bob anything, so he sat a bit straighter and cleared his throat.

He sang well--well enough indeed to be sought after at informal affairs among his set at home.