Aw Hell, I’m in the pen again.
Bad whisky… Ain’t sunshine in this jail here. Have to remember for next time. Don ‘t go getting in jail in St Louis. Got damn, I het Illinois.
No sun here and I sweat anyway. Guessin’ that cat fur’s a goner. Can’t move, scratches hurt so bad. Natchez better be there when I get to the river.
“HEY, SHERIFF! Can I have some water?
Hopin’ I didn’t do nothing too illegal.
Drunk in public? Well that is a lie! I was in a place of repEWtable business. Still drunk? Yeah I am – HAHAHA. MUgh. Can I bandage these scrashes?”
Bad whisky, but it does the job.
St Louis went an built a new railroad an’ a university. I recognize not one of these other drunkies in here. Man I would, I might go to Springfield, I get outta here and go see that Abraham Lincoln. Fightin’ Stephen Douglas in politics, oughta beat that ol’ boy. Don’t need no… Huh. Why do I care anyway about a slave? IIII just set here and wait to they let me out.
If they ever let me outta here.
That’ll be more ‘an I deserve.
