The advent of another season has me longin' for them golden days of yesteryear when, after a repast of fresh smoked hickory venison, a feller could toss the remains to Ol’ Yeller, lean back and loosen his suspenders, revealing an ample girth, unleash a chaw of tabacky juice into the nearest spittoon and punctuate it all with a self-satisfied, “PSHAW!”
1 comment:
So it was all that chaw that made him crazy in later years.
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