University of Virginia Library

But Cain himself? the master, you mean—
Oh, a very nice man was Cain,
Very, very—couldn' be beat.
But you'll hear something more about him yet.
Cain was a “Local,” you'll understand—
Yes! aw, the very head of the plan.
They said to preach he was only fair,
But you couldn' touch him for a prayer—
Soundin' out like a trumpet-blast;
And shockin' powerful with a class.
I don't know much about their rigs,
These Methodists that has their gigs,
And travels about; but Cain preferred
To stay at home, and preach the Word
To his neighbours there. So he got to be
A sort of Apostle among them, you see,
A prince and a ruler among his people,
A tower of the truth, a reg'lar steeple
Was Cain; and had his mortgages,
And money out at interest,
With all the members—isn' that the name?—
And even the chapel itself the same.
I've heard him there—a tremenjis voice—
“Rejoice!” he'd say, “my friends, rejoice!”
And up the high you couldn' think,
And up, and up—but afore you could wink,
Down like a gannet, like he wanted to pin
The divil in soundin's! and then he'd begin,
And he'd wrestle and groan, and he'd thump and he'd thwack—
A black-haired man, and his eyes was black.