human
Here we be all on us, men and wimmen, fishin' on the broad sea of life, and who knows what will tackle the lines we drop down into the mysterious depths? We sail along careless and onthinkin' over rush and rapid, depth and shallow, the line draggin' along. Who knows what we may feel all of a sudden on the end of the line? Who knows what we may be ketchin' ontirely onbeknown to us? We may be ketchin' happiness, and we may be layin' holt of sorrow. A bliss may be jerked up by us out of the depth; agin a wretchedness and a heart-ache may grip holt the end of the line. Poor fishers that we be! settin' in our frail little shallop on deep waters over onknown depths, draggin' a onceasin' line along after us night and day, year in and year out. The line is sot sometimes by ourselves, but a great hand seems to be holdin' ours as we fasten on the hook, a great protectin' Power seems to be behind us, tellin' us where to drop the line, for we feel sometimes that we can't help ourselves.