This is gonna be like bleedin' a steer. Turn around, mister, or I'll stick this Texas toothpick in your eyes, one at a time.
There—at Ioue wexed wroth, and in his ſpright / Did inly grudge, yet did it well conceale; / And bade Dan Phœbus Scribe her Appellation ſeale.
Dey uster have a song 'bout de Mockers roun' de cabins, an' a dance went wid it, 'cause it was a berry long song; but aftah dat Sambo done change it some when he uster sing it.
We must grant the artist his subject, his idea, what the French call his donnée; our criticism is applied only to what he makes of it.
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