I'll call Monday and get my money.' "We were doing a good business here making fun.

It seems a pity to ruin it and throw suspicion on the quality of the goods by throwing a cat on the counter.

I'll only throw one cat.

It is entitled: MY SISTER SUE "Say, boys, I guess 'at none o' you Has ever seen my sister Sue, She kin rassle an' turn han'springs kerflop, But Jimmy Crimps!--ye should see her hop! Yes, sir! "She kin h'ist one foot an' go like Ned! An' hop on top o' my mother's bed, An' back an' round the house she'll go, 'Ith her ol' knee as limber as a hickory bow, Yes, sir! "She kin sing a hull song 'ithout ketchin' her breath, An' make up a face 'at 'ud scare ye to death! She kin wiggle her ears an' cross her eyes An' stick out her tongue till yer hair 'ud rise.
Yes, sir! "An' play wildcat on her han's an' knees, Honest! 'T would give ye the gibberees! An' she sneaks along an' jumps at you An' gives sech a yell!--my sister Sue! Yes, sir! "She kin shoot off a gun an' set a trap, An' if you don't behave she kin give you a slap She kin holler and scream like a flock o' geese An' stan' on her head an' speak a piece.
Yes, sir! "She kin run cross legged an' ride a cow, An' jump from the beam to the big hay mow.
I reckon yer hair 'ud stan' up to see 'er A breakin' a colt er throwin' a steer, Yes, sir! "My sister Susan has got a beau.
When he comes she sets an' acts jes' so, An' talks so proper--it's zac'ly jes Like the flummididles on her dress, Yes, sir! "When she stan's in that darn ol' Sunday gown Ye'd think a grasshopper could knock 'er down.
An' she laughs kind o' sick--like a kitten's mew-- Ye wouldn't think 'twas my sister Sue, No, sir! "An' she says: 'Oh, dear! those horrid boys! They act so rough an' make sech a noise!' Good gracious! ye wouldn't think 'at she Could talk as loud as a bumble bee-- No, sirs "Honest! Er lift a chip o' wood, She acts so puny an' nice an' good! 'Boys are awful!' she says, 'till they're grown, Er nelse they got to be yer own!' Oh, gosh!" This raised a storm of merriment, after which he recited the poem of Burns, with keen appreciation of its quality.

Samson repeatedly writes of his gift for interpretation, especially of the comic, and now and then lays particular stress on his power of mimicry.
John Cameron sang _The Sword of Bunker Hill_ and _Forty Years Ago, Tom_.
Samson played while the older people danced until midnight.