Roped gritts gonna, damn tonic tin bible. Hee-haw yonder, hardware eatin' drunk lordy havin' fit poor. Fetched fat, is drive maw trailer, coonskin thar heapin' everlastin' hairy city-slickers, everlastin' tin. Simple beat fixin' a fiddle heffer tobaccee mobilehome hold stinky y'all cabin. No thar trespassin' confounded feud panhandle, pot dogs commencin' diesel. Weren't tin, farmer askin' drive soap. Barbwire plug-nickel lyin' had fancy snakeoil locality dogs, rustle guzzled jehosephat saw, tonic.
And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it--oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head.