Darn it, 't air kewrous, too.

'Twar on this side he laid down to git shade from the sun.

I seed him squat whiles I war walkin' away.

The sun ain't hot enuf yit to a druv him to westward o' the bush, though thar for sartin he must be.

What's the use o' my stannin' shilly-shally hyar?
I may as well face the sight at oncest, ugly as I know it'll prove.