Chapter 4
I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit-and-bilin', A-drivin' up from Shallor Ford to stay the Sunday through; And I want to see 'em hitchin' at their son-in-law's and pilin' Out there at 'Lizy Ellen's like they ust to do!
I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin'; And I want to pester Laury 'bout their freckled hired hand, And joke her 'bout the widower she come purt' nigh a-takin', Till her Pap got his pension 'lowed in time to save his land.
Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station-- Back where they's nothin' aggervatin' any more, Shet away safe in the woods around the old location-- Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
I want to see Marindy and he'p her with her sewin', And hear her talk so lovin' of her man that's dead and gone, And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he's growin', And smile as I have saw her 'fore she putt her mournin' on.
And I want to see the Samples, on the old lower eighty, Where John, our oldest boy, he was tuk and burried-- for His own sake and Katy's--, and I want to cry with Katy As she reads all his letters over, writ from The War.
What's in all this grand life and high situation, And nary pink nor hollyhawk a-bloomin' at the door--? Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station-- Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
_Knee Deep in June_
1 Tell you what I like the best-- 'Long about knee-deep in June, 'Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine--, some afternoon Like to jes' git out and rest, And not work at nothin' else!
2 Orchard's where I'd ruther be-- Needn't fence it in fer me--! Jes' the whole sky overhead, And the whole airth underneath-- Sorto' so's a man kin breathe Like he ort, and kindo' has Elbow-room to keerlessly Sprawl out len'thways on the grass Where the shadders thick and soft As the kivvers on the bed Mother fixes in the loft Allus, when they's company!
3 Jes' a-sorto' lazin' there-- S'lazy, 'at you peeks and peer Through the wavin' leaves above, Like a feller 'ats in love And don't know it, ner don't keer! Ever'thing you hear and see Got some sort o' interest-- Maybe find a bluebird's nest Tucked up there conveenently Fer the boy 'at's ap' to be Up some other apple-tree! Watch the swallers skootin' past 'Bout as peert as you could ast; Er the Bob-white raise and whiz Where some other's whistle is.
4 Ketch a shadder down below, And look up to find the crow-- Er a hawk--, away up there 'Pearantly froze in the air--! Hear the old hen squawk, and squat Over ever' chick she's got, Suddent-like--! And she knows where That-air hawk is, well as you--! You jes' bet yer life she do--! Eyes a-glittern' like glass, Waitin' till he makes a pass!
5 Pee-wees' singin', to express My opinion, 's second class, Yit you'll hear 'em more er less; Sapsucks gittin' down to biz, Weedin' out the lonesomeness; Mr. Bluejay, full o' sass, In them base-ball clothes o' his, Sportin' round the orchard jes' Life he owned the premises! Sun out in the fields kin sizz, But flat on yer back, I guess, In the shade's where glory is! That's jes' what I'd like to do Stiddy fer a year er two!
6 Plague! Ef they ain't somepin' in Work 'at kindo' goes ag'in' My convictions--! 'Long about Here in June especially--! Under some old apple-tree, Jes' a-restin' through and through, I could git along without Nothin' else at all to do Only jes' a-wishin' you Wuz a-gittin' there like me, And June was eternity!
7 Lay out there and try to see Jes' how lazy you kin be--! Tumble round and souse yer head In the clover-bloom, er pull Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes And peek through it at the skies, Thinkin' of old chums 'at's dead, Maybe, smilin' back at you In betwixt the 'beautiful Clouds o' gold and white and blue--! Month a man kin railly love June, you know, I'm talkin' of!
8 March ain't never nothin' new--! Aprile's altogether too Brash fer me! And May-- I jes' 'Bominate its promises--, Little hints o' sunshine and Green around the timber-land-- A few blossoms, and a few Chip-birds, and a sprout er two--, Drap asleep, and it turns in 'Fore daylight and snows ag'in--! But when June comes-- Clear my th'oat With wild honey--! Rench my hair In the dew! And hold my coat! Whoop out loud! And th'ow my hat--! June wants me, and I'm to spare! Spread them shadders anywhere, I'll git down and waller there, And obleeged to you at that!
_When The Hearse Comes Back_
A thing 'at's 'bout as tryin' as a healthy man kin meet Is some poor feller's funeral a-joggin' 'long the street: The slow hearse and the hosses-- slow enough, to say at least, Fer to even tax the patience of gentleman deceased! The low scrunch of the gravel-- and the slow grind of the wheels--, The slow, slow go of ev'ry woe 'at ev'rybody feels! So I ruther like the contrast when I hear the whip-lash crack A quickstep fer the hosses, When the Hearse Comes Back!
Meet it goin' to'rds the cimet'ry, you'll want to drap yer eyes-- But ef the plumes don't fetch you, it'll ketch you otherwise-- You'll haf to see the caskit, though you'd ort to look away And 'conomize and save yer sighs fer any other day! Yer sympathizin' won't wake up the sleeper from his rest-- Yer tears won't thaw them hands o' his 'at's froze acrost his breast! And this is why-- when airth and sky's a gittin blurred and black-- I like the flash and hurry When the Hearse Comes Back!
It's not 'cause I don't 'preciate it ain't no time fer jokes, Ner 'cause I' got no common human feelin' fer the folks--; I've went to funerals myse'f, and tuk on some, perhaps-- Fer my hearth's 'bout as mal'able as any other chap's--, I've buried father, mother-- But I'll haf to jes' git you To "excuse me," as the feller says--. The p'int I'm drivin' to Is simply when we're plum broke down and all knocked out o' whack, It he'ps to shape us up like, When the Hearse Comes Back!
The idy! Wadin round here over shoe-mouth deep in woe, When they's a graded 'pike o' joy and sunshine don't you know! When evening strikes the pastur', cows'll pull out fer the bars, And skittish-like from out the night'll prance the happy stars. And so when my time comes to die, and I've got ary friend 'At wants expressed my last request-- I'll mebby, rickommend To drive slow, ef they haf to, goin' 'long the out'ard track, But I'll smile and say, "You speed 'em When the Hearse Comes Back!"
_A Canary At the Farm_
Folks has be'n to town, and Sahry Fetched 'er home a pet canary--, And of all the blame', contrary, Aggervatin' things alive! I love music-- that I love it When it's free-- and plenty of it--; But I kindo' git above it, At a dollar-eighty-five!
Reason's plain as I'm a-sayin'--, Jes' the idy, now, o' layin' Out yer money, and a-payin' Fer a willer-cage and bird, When the medder-larks is wingin' Round you, and the woods is ringin' With the beautifullest singin' That a mortal ever heard!
Sahry's sot, tho'--. So I tell her He's a purty little feller, With his wings o' creamy-yeller, And his eyes keen as a cat; And the twitter o' the critter 'Pears to absolutely glitter! Guess I'll haf to go and git her A high-priceter cage 'n that!
_A Liz Town Humorist_
Settin' round the stove, last night, Down at Wess's store, was me And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White, And Doc Bills, and two er three Fellers o' the Mudsock tribe No use tryin' to describe! And says Doc, he says, says he--, "Talkin' 'bout good things to eat, Ripe mushmillon's hard to beat!"
I chawed on. And Mart he 'lowed Wortermillon beat the mush--. "Red," he says, "and juicy-- Hush--! I'll jes' leave it to the crowd!" Then a Mudsock chap, says he--, "Punkin's good enough fer me-- Punkin pies, I mean," he says--, Them beats millons--! What say, Wess?
I chawed on. And Wess says--, "Well, You jes' fetch that wife of mine All yer wortermillon-rine--, And she'll bile it down a spell-- In with sorghum, I suppose, And what else, Lord only knows--! But I'm here to tell all hands Them p'serves meets my demands!"
I chawed on. And White he says--, "Well, I'll jes' stand, in with Wess-- I'm no hog!" And Tunk says--, "I Guess I'll pastur' out on pie With the Mudsock boys!" says he; "Now what's yourn?" he says to me: I chawed on-- fer-- quite a spell Then I speaks up, slow and dry--, Jes' tobacker!" I-says-I--. And you'd ort o' heerd 'em yell!
_Kingry's Mill_
On old Brandywine-- about Where White's Lots is now laid out, And the old crick narries down To the ditch that splits the town--, Kingry's Mill stood. Hardly see Where the old dam ust to be; Shallor, long, dry trought o' grass Where the old race ust to pass!
That's be'n forty years ago-- Forty years o' frost and snow-- Forty years o' shade and shine Sence them boyhood-days o' mine--! All the old landmarks o' town. Changed about, er rotted down! Where's the Tanyard? Where's the Still? Tell me where's old Kingry's Mill?
Don't seem furder back, to me, I'll be dogg'd! Than yisterd'y, Since us fellers, in bare feet And straw hats, went through the wheat, Cuttin' 'crost the shortest shoot Fer that-air old ellum root Jest above the mill-dam-- where The blame' cars now crosses there!
Through the willers down the crick We could see the old mill stick Its red gable up, as if It jest knowed we'd stol'd the skiff! See the winders in the sun Blink like they wuz wonderun' What the miller ort to do With sich boys as me and you!
But old Kingry--! Who could fear That old chap, with all his cheer--? Leanin' at the window-sill, Er the half-door o' the mill, Swoppin' lies, and pokin' fun, 'N jigglin' like his hoppers done-- Laughin' grists o' gold and red Right out o' the wagon-bed!
What did he keer where we went--? "Jest keep out o' devilment, And don't fool around the belts, Bolts, ner burrs, ner nothin' else 'Bout the blame machinery, And that's all I ast!" says-ee. Then we'd climb the stairs, and play In the bran-bins half the day!
Rickollect the dusty wall, And the spider-webs, and all! Rickollect the trimblin' spout Where the meal come josslln' out-- Stand and comb yer fingers through The fool-truck an hour er two-- Felt so sorto' warm-like and Soothin' to a feller's hand!
Climb, high up above the stream, And "coon" out the wobbly beam And peek down from out the lof' Where the weather-boards was off-- Gee-mun-nee! w'y, it takes grit Even jest to think of it--! Lookin' 'way down there below On the worter roarin' so!
Rickollect the flume, and wheel, And the worter slosh and reel And jest ravel out in froth Flossier'n satin cloth! Rickollect them paddles jest Knock the bubbles galley-west, And plunge under, and come up Drippin' like a worter-pup!
And to see them old things gone That I onc't was bettin' on, In rale p'int o' fact, I feel kindo' like that worter-wheel--, Sorto' drippy-like and wet Round the eyes-- but paddlin' yet, And in mem'ry, loafin' still Down around old Kingry's Mill!
_Joney_
Had a hare-lip-- Joney had: Spiled his looks, and Joney knowed it: Fellers tried to bore him, bad-- But ef ever he got mad, He kep' still and never showed it. 'Druther have his mouth all pouted And split up, and like it wuz, Than the ones 'at laughed about it. Purty is as purty does!
Had to listen ruther clos't 'Fore you knowed "what he wuz givin' You; and yet, without no boast, Joney he wuz jest the most Entertainin' talker livin'! Take the Scriptur's and run through 'em, Might say, like a' auctioneer, And 'ud argy and review 'em 'At wuz beautiful to hear!
Hare-lip and inpediment, Both wuz bad, and both ag'in' him-- But the old folks where he went, 'Preared like, knowin' his intent, 'Scused his mouth fer what wuz in him. And the childern all loved Joney-- And he loved 'em back, you bet--! Putt their arms around him-- on'y None had ever kissed him yet!
In young company, someway, Boys 'ud grin at one another On the sly; and girls 'ud lay Low, with nothin' much to say, Er leave Joney with their mother. Many and many a time he's fetched 'em Candy by the paper sack, And turned right around and ketched 'em Makin mouths behind his back!
S'prised sometimes, the slurs he took--. Chap said onc't his mouth looked sorter Like a fish's mouth 'ud look When he'd be'n jerked off the hook And plunked back into the worter--. Same durn feller-- it's su'prisin', But it's facts-- 'at stood and cherred From the bank that big babtizin' 'Pike-bridge accident occurred--!
Cherred for Joney while he give Life to little childern drowndin'! Which wuz fittenest to live-- Him 'at cherred, er him 'at div' And saved thirteen lives...? They found one Body, three days later, floated Down the by-o, eight mile' south, All so colored-up and bloated-- On'y knowed him by his mouth!
Had a hare-lip-- Joney had-- Folks 'at filed apast all knowed it--. Them 'at ust to smile looked sad, But ef he thought good er bad, He kep' still and never showed it. 'Druther have that mouth, all pouted And split up, and like it wuz, Than the ones 'at laughed about it--. Purty is as purty does!
_Like His Mother Used To Make_
"Uncle Jake's Place," St. Jo, Mo., 1874
"I was born in Indiany," says a stranger, lank and slim, As us fellers in the restarunt was kindo' guyin' him, And Uncle Jake was slidin' him another punkin pie And a' extry cup o' coffee, with a twinkle in his eye. "I was born in Indiany-- more'n forty year' ago-- I hain't be'n back in twenty-- and I'm workin' back'ards slow; But I've et in ever' restarunt 'twixt here and Santy Fee, And I want to state this coffee tastes like gittin' home, to me!"
"Pour us out another, Daddy," says the feller, warmin' up, A-speakin' 'cost a saucerful, as Uncle tuk his cup--, "When I seed yer sign out yander," he went on, to Uncle Jake- -, "'Come in and git some coffee like yer mother used to make'-- I thought of my old mother, and the Posey County farm, And me a little kid ag'in, a-hangin' in her arm, As she set the pot: a-bilin', broke the eggs and poured 'em in--" And the feller kindo' halted, with a trimble in his chin:
And Uncle Jake he fetched the feller's coffee back, and stood As solemn, fer a minute, as a' undertaker would; Then he sorto' turned and tiptoed to'rds the kitchen door-- and nex', Here comes his old wife out with him, a-rubbin' of her specs-- And she rushes fer the stranger, and she hollers out, "It's him--! Thank God we've met him comin'--! Don't you know, yer mother, Jim?" And the feller, as he grabbed her, says--, "You bet I hain't forgot-- But," wipin' of his eyes, says he, "yer coffee's mighty hot!"
_The Train Misser_
At Union Station
'Ll where in the world my eyes has bin-- Ef I hain't missed that train ag'in! Chuff! And whistle! And toot! And ring! But blast and blister the dasted train--! How it does it I can't explain! Git here thirty-five minutes before The durn things due--! And, drat the thing It'll manage to git past-shore!
The more I travel around, the more I got no sense--! To stand right here And let it beat me! 'Ll ding my melts! I got no gumption, ner nothin' else! Ticket Agent's a dad-burned bore--! Sell you a tickets all they keer--! Ticket Agents ort to all be
Prosecuted-- and that's jes what--! How'd I know which train's fer me? And how'd I know which train was not--? Goern and comin' and gone astray, And backin' and switchin' ever'-which-way!
Ef I could jes sneak round behind Myse'f, where I could git full swing, I'd lift my coat, and kick, by jing! Till I jes got jerked up and fined--! Fer here I stood, as a durn fool's apt To, and let that train jes chuff and choo Right apast me-- and mouth jes gapped Like a blamed old sandwitch warped in two!
_Granny_
Granny's come to our house, And ho! My lawzy-daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin' crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, And fetched a pie fer Nanny, And fetched a pear fer all the pack That runs to kiss their Granny!
Lucy Ellen's in her lap, And Wade and Silas Walker Both's a ridin' on her foot, And 'Pollos on the rocker; And Marthy's twins, from Aunt Marinn's And little Orphant Annie, All's a-eatin' gingerbread And giggle-un at Granny!
Tells us all the fairy tales Ever thought er wundered-- And 'bundance o' other stories-- Bet she knows a hunderd--!
Bob's the one fer "Whittington," And "Golden Locks" fer Fanny! Hear 'em laugh and clap their hands, Listenin' at Granny!
"Jack the Giant-Killer" 's good; And "Bean-Stalk" 's another--! So's the one of "Cinderell'" And her old godmother--; That-un's best of all the rest-- Bestest one of any--, Where the mices scampers home Like we runs to Granny!
Granny's come to our house, Ho! My lawzy-daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a runnin' crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, And fetched a pie fer Nanny, And fetched a pear fer all the pack That runs to kiss their Granny!
_Old October_
Old October's purt' nigh gone, And the frosts is comin' on Little heavier every day-- Like our hearts is thataway! Leaves is changin' overhead Back from green to gray and red, Brown and yeller, with their stems Loosenin' on the oaks and e'ms; And the balance of the trees Gittin' balder every breeze-- Like the heads we're scratchin' on! Old October's purt' nigh gone.
I love Old October so, I can't bear to see her go-- Seems to me like losin' some Old-home relative er chum-- 'Pears like sorto' settin' by Some old friend 'at sigh by sigh Was a-passin' out o' sight Into everlastin' night! Hickernuts a feller hears Rattlin' down is more like tears Drappin' on the leaves below-- I love Old October so!
Can't tell what it is about Old October knock me out--! I sleep well enough at night-- And the blamedest appetite Ever mortal man possessed--, Last thing et, it tastes the best--! Warnuts, butternuts, pawpaws, 'Iles and limbers up my jaws Fer raal service, sich as new Pork, spareribs, and sausage, too--. Yit fer all, they's somepin' 'bout Old October knocks me out!
_Jim_
He was jes a plain ever'-day, all-round kind of a jour., Consumpted-Iookin'-- but la! The jokeiest, wittiest, story-tellin', song-singin', laughin'est, jolliest Feller you ever saw! Worked at jes coarse work, but you kin bet he was fine enough in his talk, And his feelin's too! Lordy! Ef he was on'y back on his bench ag'in to-day, a- carryin' on Like he ust to do!
Any shopmate'll tell you there never was, on top o' dirt, A better feller'n Jim! You want a favor, and couldn't git it anywheres else-- You could git it o' him! Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, I guess! Give up ever' nickel he's worth-- And ef you'd a-wanted it, and named it to him, and it was his, He'd a-give you the earth!
Allus a reachin' out, Jim was, and a-he'ppin' some Pore feller onto his feet-- He'd a-never a-keered how hungry he was hisse'f, So's the feller got somepin' to eat! Didn't make no differ'nce at all to him how he was dressed, He ust to say to me--, "You togg out a tramp purty comfortable in winter-time, a huntin' a job, And he'll git along!" says he.
Jim didn't have, ner never could git ahead, so overly much O' this world's goods at a time--. 'Fore now I've saw him, more'n onc't, lend a dollar, and haf to, more'n likely, Turn round and borry a dime! Mebby laugh and joke about it hisse'f fer awhile-- then jerk his coat, And kindo' square his chin, Tie on his apern, and squat hisse'f on his old shoe-bench, And go to peggin' ag'in!
Patientest feller too, I reckon, 'at ever jes natchurly Coughed hisse'f to death! Long enough after his voice was lost he'd laugh in a whisper and say He could git ever'thing but his breath-- "You fellers," he'd sorto' twinkle his eyes and say, "Is a-pilin' onto me A mighty big debt fer that-air little weak-chested ghost o' mine to pack Through all Eternity!"
Now there was a man 'at jes 'peared-like, to me, 'At ortn't a-never a-died! "But death hain't a-showin' no favors," the old boss said-- "On'y to Jim!" and cried: And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the shop-- Er the whole blame neighborhood--, He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do anything else that day But jes set around and feel good!"
_To Robert Burns_
Sweet Singer that I loe the maist O' ony, sin' wi' eager haste I smacket bairn-lips ower the taste O' hinnied sang, I hail thee, though a blessed ghaist In Heaven lang!
For weel I ken, nae cantie phrase, Nor courtly airs, nor lairdly ways, Could gar me freer blame, or praise, Or proffer hand, Where "Rantin' Robbie" and his lays Thegither stand.
And sae these hamely lines I send, Wi' jinglin' words at ilka end, In echo o' the sangs that wend Frae thee to me Like simmer-brooks, wi mony a bend O' wimplin' glee.
In fancy, as wi' dewy een, I part the clouds aboon the scene Where thou wast born, and peer atween, I see nae spot In a' the Hielands half sae green And unforgot?
I see nae storied castle-hall, Wi' banners flauntin' ower the wall And serf and page in ready call, Sae grand to me As ane puir cotter's hut, wi' all Its poverty.
There where the simple daisy grew Sae bonnie sweet, and modest too, Thy liltin' filled its wee head fu' O' sic a grace, It aye is weepin' tears o' dew Wi' droopit face.
Frae where the heather bluebells fling Their sangs o' fragrance to the Spring, To where the lavrock soars to sing, Still lives thy strain, For' a' the birds are twittering Sangs like thine ain.
And aye, by light o' sun or moon, By banks o' Ayr, or Bonnie Doon, The waters lilt nae tender tune But sweeter seems Because they poured their limpid rune Through a' thy dreams.
Wi' brimmin' lip, and laughin' ee, Thou shookest even Grief wi' glee, Yet had nae niggart sympathy Where Sorrow bowed, But gavest a' thy tears as free As a' thy gowd.
And sae it is we be thy name To see bleeze up wi' sic a flame, That a' pretentious stars o' fame Maun blink asklent, To see how simple worth may shame Their brightest glent.
_A New Year's Time at Willards's_
1 The Hired Man Talks
There's old man Willards; an' his wife; An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an' There's me-- an' I'm the hired man; An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!