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01' Stampin' Grounds 
 
 and Othcp Poems 
 
Ol^ $tampin^ Qnounds 
 
 and Otben Poems 
 
 BY 
 
 HOWARD D WIGHT SMILEY 
 
 f^ 
 
 MARSHALL, MICH. 
 
 THE STATESMAN PRINTING & PUBLISFIING CO. 
 
 1905 
 
«"— 
 
 OCT 12 1905 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 Copyright 1905 
 By HOWARD DWTGHT SMILEY 
 
cr 
 
 To 
 MY MOTHER 
 
Concerning IDtt. Smiley 
 
 Among men of the pen there are certain par- 
 allels bound to impress even the most superficial 
 observer. The work of the late Ben King, of St. 
 Joseph, in many ways suggests the work of How- 
 ard Smiley, of Marshall and Gull lake. 
 
 Mr. King was. an older man than Mr. Smiley, 
 but throughout the verse of each of them runs a 
 thread of humor, of genial optimism, of tender 
 and homely sentiment. For them, "the hills were 
 dearest which their childish feet had climbed the 
 earliest," and the local muse inspired many of 
 their best efforts. For them, too, the Book of Na- 
 ture proved a cherished volume, and what they 
 have had to say has less to do with the sedentary 
 life than with life in the open^ — the keen, throbbing* 
 existence of the Great Out-Doors, where inspira- 
 tion comes at first hand. 
 
 And what Opie Read so touchingly says of 
 Ben King may not inappropriately be said of How- 
 ard Smiley: "How odd a boy he was — no one un- 
 derstood him. On the edge of a marsh he would 
 sit during hours at a time, under the spell of the 
 
weird music amid the rushes. As he grew up, 
 lacking the instincts that make men successful in 
 business, he was pronounced a failure — not by 
 those who had warmed themselves in the glow of 
 his poetic nature, but by the man who believed 
 that to turn over a dime and thereby make a dol- 
 lar out of it, was the most gracious faculty that 
 could be bestowed upon a member of the human 
 family. " 
 
 From an article in The Detroit Evening News 
 of May 21, 1903, — an appreciative article that made 
 Mr. Smiley many friends — the following is quoted: 
 
 "Howard Dwig-ht Smiley, of Marshall, is destined to 
 make his mark in the literary world To summer resort- 
 ers familiar with Gull lake the 'Wizard of the Shack' is 
 no stranu-ei", and his many friends in southern i\Iichig"an 
 will reofret that he may not be able to keep open house this 
 season on account of a badly crushed foot, which confines 
 him to his hotel in St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 "Mr. Smiley was born in Marshall, September 1, 1877. 
 being- the son of Hon. James F. Smiley, a prominent phy- 
 sician and republican politician. When but three years 
 old he suffered the partial loss of his sense of hearing- as 
 the result of a severe attack of scarlet fever. As a boy of 
 five he entered the 'west ward' school and for ten years 
 kept the teachers busy. He balked at the hig*h school be- 
 cause as he puts it, 'it would have necessitated my climb- 
 ing- three fiig-hts of stairs three times a day for three years 
 — too much work.' During- '93 and '94 he attended Olivet 
 coUeg-e and in '97 and '98 was a member. of the Art Stu- 
 dents' Leag-ue of New York city. 
 
 "On Ciiristmas day, 1898, Howard lost his mother. 
 Being- released from her restraining- influence and possess- 
 ed of quite a sum of insurance money, he, in company with 
 Burdette F. Grant— son of Dr. A. B. Grant, of Albion, — 
 went into Ontonog-an county to take up a homesteader's 
 claim. It was there, in the solitary pine woods, that Smi- 
 ley wrote his first poem. Early in October, 1899, while 
 
alone in the woods, forty miles from Houghton, he was ad- 
 vised by wire of the sudden death of his father. Young- 
 Grant, then a student in the Houghton School of Mines, 
 had risked expulsion and ridden out with the message. 
 They were delaying the funeral for him, so mounting 
 Grant's tired horse, the boy started out for Houghton. 
 The horse fell three times on the road, and Grant, on foot, 
 reached the city first. Without rest Smiley made the long 
 trip down through Wisconsin to Chicago and home over 
 the Michigan Central, arriving too late for the funeral. 
 
 "It was a sad home-coming for the boy, left almost 
 alone in the world, and, while still in a dazed condition, 
 he was rushed to the court house where he read and accept- 
 ed his father's strange will, without realizing its meaning. 
 But time and rest brought regrets when too late— the will 
 had been probated and Howard will get his share when 
 thirty-five years of age, if the other heirs think proper. 
 
 "Realizing that he was nearly on his uppers, young 
 Smiley, after a period spent in the mining towns of the up- 
 per peninsula, returned to Gull lake and took up his abode 
 in the boat house built for the Smiley cottage. This little 
 house has since been his summer home and is known to all 
 his friends as 'The Shack.' 
 
 "Howard's deafness has seerningly magnified his other 
 senses -he is extremely observing and is a great student of 
 animal and bird life as evidenced by many of his writings. 
 One of his best compositions, 'The House Next Door,' 
 was written during a brief stay in Marshall, after an ab- 
 sence of a year or more. The poem was published some 
 time ago in The Marshall Statesman and attracted much 
 attention, coupled with predictions of a brilliant career in 
 the field of letters. A later production, 'Evans .An' Me 
 An' Cronin,' bears out these predictions and will bring 
 smiles to all of Howard's acquaintances. * * * Young 
 Smiley paints most accurate word pictures in all his remi- 
 niscent verse, and there is a wonderful depth of feeling ex- 
 pressed in their homely simplicity. People who know Gull 
 lake will appreciate his 'Springtime Ruminations' and 
 'Back Again,' while those about Marshall will immediate- 
 ly recognize 'The Ol' Stampin' Grounds." 
 
 That Mr. Smiley' s best work — and this httle 
 volume contains many examples of it — is prodigal 
 in promise of things to come, there is no gain- 
 
saying. There are verses here that are little 
 gems in their way — touches of humor and senti- 
 ment that are certain to cHng to the mind and rise 
 often to the hp. While the Wizard of the Shack 
 may do even better in years to come, and take an 
 honored place beside Carleton and Riley and other 
 poets of the middle w^est, his present book will 
 not be laid aside without a fervent "well done!" 
 from the reader. The scenes he knows and loves 
 he has wrought into his verse with no uncertain 
 hand. 
 
 '''His heart loas in his ivork, and the heart 
 Giveth grace unto every art.^^ 
 
 William Wallace Cook. 
 
Contents 
 
 Ol' St ampin' Grounds - l 
 
 As Mrs. WiGGS Says - - 96 
 
 Boy You Used To Know, The 61 
 
 Back Hum ' - - 24 
 
 Bert - 87 
 
 Back Again - - - 41 
 
 Dearie O' 66 
 
 Epistle To James Whitcomb Riley, An - • • 68 
 
 Gull Lake 38 
 
 House Next Door, The 4 
 
 I'M Jest A Boy 70 
 
 Invitation, An - - ■ 44 
 
 Jest 63 
 
 Jason Swamp Muskeeter, The - - - - - 82 
 
 Little Shack Sermon, A 50 
 
 Larrys' Party - - - 12 
 
 Long In June 22 
 
 Life - 76 
 
 Little Brown Eyed Lass, The - - - - 47 
 
 *My Li'l Tiny Gal 79 
 
 My Choice - - - - 94 
 
 My Bosses 99 
 
 My Ol' Man - - 72 
 
Modern Rip Van Winkle, A 26 
 
 Message, The 59 
 
 Ol' Kit 89 
 
 Ol' Familiar Town. The 17 
 
 Optimist, The - - - - 97 
 
 Ol' Town, The 23 
 
 Outlet, The 49 
 
 Protest, A 45 
 
 Retrospect ' - - - 53 
 
 Round The Ol' Kazoo 20 
 
 Riddle, A 75 
 
 Sah 6 
 
 Springtime Ruminations 39 
 
 Spring O' Year 16 
 
 Uncle Ike's Swim 85 
 
 Wouldn't We Joe ■ 10 
 
 What De Use - 78 
 
 Waiting For His Sweetheart - - ■ - 74 
 
 When Autumn's Come 04 
 
 When You Kissed Me 57 
 
 When You Went Home --•-.-- 55 
 
 Weather Signs - 52 
 
 Watermelon Time - 103 
 
 Wonderin' 14 
 
 Yesterdays, The 101 
 
 Ye Minds Me 60 
 
 Yo' Unc' Douglas' Greetin's 80 
 
01* $tampin* Qitounds 
 
 The or bridg-e stands where the ol' bridge stood, 
 
 An' the ol' mill's still in the neighborhood, 
 
 With the same ol' roars an' the same ol' clanks. 
 
 An' the same ol' wheel an' the same ol' planks, 
 
 A little bit moss-grown, I'll admit; I 
 
 An' the ol' beam's gone, where we uster sit I 
 
 An' fish fer dace, in the warm June sun, i 
 
 An' fer suckers, too — when the suckers run. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 The ol' path winds where the ol' path wound, ] 
 
 An' the same ol' trees still stand around, i 
 With the same ol' apples, and' the same old shade. 
 
 An' the same old spring 'at Davis made. i 
 
 What 'pears to be the same ol' cow ! 
 
 Is pastured out in the wood-lot now ; ■ j 
 An' the same ol' hole's in the same ol' fence 
 Where I 'member wunst I found fi' cents. 
 
 The ol' bank runs where the ol' bank ran, i 
 
 An' some o' the same ol' landmarks stan', | 
 
 With the same ol' log an' the same old stone, \ 
 
 An' the same ol' stump all mossy grown. | 
 
 An' yet, somehow, it do appear • i 
 
 'At somethin' er other is missin' here. 1 
 
 Why, yes — what's come o' the big "ol' tree" • 
 
 And the boys that went barefoot with me. ! 
 
I wonder where "Punk" Mor'son is, 
 An' "Bony" Bryant, too? 
 An' all the rest o' that ol' gang 
 'At played with me an' you. 
 Where's "Spot" Stultz an' "Fatty" gone 
 An' "Mud," an' "Bill," and "Lou?" 
 An' while I'm lookin' 'round — why, say, 
 Now what's become o' you? 
 
 There ain't much change come o'er the place. 
 
 Except the vanished boyish face 
 
 O' the little chap 'at swum 'round here 
 
 In the long ago o' a vanished year. 
 
 Don't seem no more than yesterday 
 
 Since all us fellers used to play 
 
 An' swim 'round here — it sure do seem 
 
 I should find you all along this stream. 
 
 Gently the river glides along, 
 
 Singin' it's n-ever endin' song, 
 
 Singin' its song o' leafy bowers. 
 
 Deep still woods, an' sweet wild flowers. 
 
 Singin' to me, an' singin' to you 
 
 The ol' sweet song o' the Kal-a-ma-zoo, 
 
 Singin' to me, an' singin' to you 
 
 The story o' what we uster do. 
 
THE "ol' tree" SWIMMIN' HOLE 
 
As deeper groAvs the sunset skies, • 
 Slowly the mist begins to rise; 
 An' hangs like a curtain o'er the stream, 
 An' pictures the scene o' a long past dream, 
 Fer settin' here with half-closed eyes 
 I kin hear the splashes an' joyous cries '■- 
 Come echoin' back from that long ago 
 When you an' I were youngsters, Joe. ' 
 
The House Hext Door 
 
 i 
 
 I've been visltin' down to Mollie's i 
 
 In that new house o' hers | 
 
 She built upon the site o' where ' 
 
 The or barn stood for years ; ] 
 
 An' it covers up the play ground ] 
 
 So it's thirty feet, not more, : 
 
 Between her bedroom winder i 
 
 An' the house next door. ^ 
 
 < 
 
 i 
 
 A kind o' reminiscence comes 
 
 A-creepin' over me ; 
 
 When I'm settin' at her winder i 
 
 An' lookin' out. I see 
 Them two ol' yeller porches 
 
 With the ivy creepin' o'er, 
 An' a general kind o' side view 
 
 O' the house next door. ^ 
 
 House next door, to most folks. 
 
 Don't mean so very much ; \ 
 
 P'rhaps a friendly neighbor, 
 
 Er playmate, er some such. 
 With me it's somewhat diff'rent, 
 
 An' it means a little more — 
 S'pose it's jest 'cause I was born 
 
 In the house next door. 
 
'Twas there I learned life's lessons, 
 
 Word by word was taught to talk, 
 An' I can jest remember 
 
 When I first begun to walk, 
 When I'd take two steps an' tumble 
 
 An' go rollin' 'cross the floor — 
 In my little babyhood days 
 
 In the house next door. 
 
 Wisht instead o' settin' here, 
 
 A-tryin' to write a rhyme, 
 'At I was back on that ol' bench 
 
 'Long 'bout dinner time — 
 Talkin' there with Billy 
 
 Out in front of Billy's store — 
 'N hear ma whistle "dinner" 
 
 From the house next door. 
 
 'Twould take a heap o' talkin' 
 
 To tell o' all, I've done 
 A-playin' 'round in that ol' house — 
 
 The troubles an' the fun — 
 But each succeedin' year shall make 
 
 Me love em more an' more. 
 Them tender recollections 
 
 O' the house next door. 
 
Sab 
 
 That or house where I wuz. born. 
 
 With a mother's love an' sister's scorn, , 
 
 An' father's kind o' mixed , up like, 
 
 Tho' I believe he loved me a great big sight 
 
 More'n he hated me, cuz it's plain's can. be, 
 
 There wuz never a bettei* father'n he. 
 
 An' there's where I spent so many years 
 
 Chuck full o' joy all mixt with tears, 
 
 An' there's where I knew the one — 'cept ma — 
 
 'At loved me the best o' all, that's Sah. 
 
 That little room, right next to hers, 
 
 When she lived with us in by-gone years, 
 
 Where she'd put me to bed an' tuck me in, 
 
 My ! how I wish she could do it agin ; 
 
 Fer she'd tuck me in so slick an' Avarm 
 
 At' th' coldest colds cudn't do no harm. 
 
 If she'd tuck me in t'night I believe 
 
 I'd stay right there jest's long 's 1 live; 
 
 For there wuzn't a soul in the world — 'cept ma- 
 
 'At could tuck a feller in like Sah. 
 
 An' that ol' barn 'at uster be 
 
 A reg'lar paradise ter me, 
 
 Where ev'ry night, right after school 
 
 (An' th' ol' coal box 'ud be th' gool) 
 
 We'd play hide an' coop, in an' about; 
 
When long she'd come, an' up an' shout ' 
 *'See here young man, I think you're able 
 T' pitch right in an' clean out this stable." 
 Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma— 
 'At could make a feller work like Sah. 
 
 An' that ol' yard where t uster play 
 
 An' idle th' hours day by day, 
 
 Under them two ol' apple trees 
 
 With their tiny fruit an' honey bees ! 
 
 An' one winter when I wuz 'bout two feet tall, 
 
 I 'member I rolled a big snow ball, 
 
 An' lot o' little ones, an' when she come, I'd 
 
 Frow some at her, nen run an' hide. ' 
 
 But she'd pull me out like a brindle calf. 
 
 An' nen we'd set an' laff, an' laff, 
 
 Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma— 
 
 'At could make a- feller laff like Sah. 
 
 An' some days when I'd be loafin' round 
 
 Making* mud pies out on the ground 
 
 Er swingin' 'neath them apple trees 
 
 Er bottlin' up big bumble-bees, 
 
 'Long she'd come an' up an' say: 
 
 ''See here, young man, today's Sunday, 
 
 You dress right up an' trot along 
 
 To Sunday school, where you belong." 
 
 Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma- 
 
 'At could make a feller be good like Sah. 
 
N'en other days when I'd be mad 
 
 An' frow things 'round, an' act real bad, 
 
 An' tell th' folks how mean they were, 
 
 An' how they wouldn't let me stir, 
 
 An' I wouldn't have nothin' 'tall explained, 
 
 Nen she'd say: "Young man, y' shud be ashamed 
 
 To act like that ; if you don't do right 
 
 I'll wallop you clean outer sight." 
 
 Fer there wuzn't a soul — not even ma — 
 
 'At could make a feller mind like Sah. 
 
 That ol' church where they uster hold 
 
 Auctions, 'member when they sold 
 
 Me that shoe bag an' made ma mad, 
 
 So she spanked me good, an' sent me to bed. 
 
 An' I cried, an' cried like everything? 
 
 Nen in she'd come an' set an' sing 
 
 An' laff, an' talk, an' say "boo-hoo" 
 
 Jest to mock me ; nen I'd laff too, 
 
 Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl — 'cept ma — 
 
 'At could cheer a feller up like Sah. 
 
 That ol' grave yard up on the hill, 
 
 Where all is beautiful, quiet an' still, 
 
 An' th' birds, an' th' flow'rs cover th' ground, 
 
 An' most trees are green th' year around. 
 
 Where brother Robbie is laid away. 
 
An' Ruthey an' Katie, an' Dave's Charley, 
 An' all o' my folks, an' her folks too, 
 Tell ye what I hope they'll do — 
 'At they'll dig two graves near pa an' ma, 
 By an' by, fer me an' Sah. 
 
lUouldn't UJe Joe 
 
 Us two'd hike out when the first snow flew, 
 
 Wouldn't we, Joe? Me and you, 
 
 An' Tim an' Lize, and Fritz 'ud whine 
 
 An' ol' Jumbo 'd tail on behin' — 
 
 Wise ol' purp, Jum, wasn't he Joe? 
 
 Wa'n't worth knowin' what he didn't know ; 
 
 An wouldn't them hounds make th' rabbits go 
 
 'Round th' ol' south marshes, wouldn't they, Joe? 
 
 "Over South" was th' place where the rabbits 
 
 romped. 
 Wasn't it, Joe? Them grounds we stomped 
 Back in th' days o' long ago — 
 Th' bestest days — wasn't they, Joe? 
 When Tim hit th' trail o' a cotton tail. 
 An' 'ud tell us so with a long drawn wail 
 "Ou-o-o- ou-o-o-o- ou-o-o-o," — so, 
 Make your heart beat quick, — wouldn't it Joe? 
 
 Then Lize 'an Fritz 'ud join in, 
 Wouldn't they Joe? An' howl like sin 
 Hot on th' trail o' that cotton tail, 
 With noses an' eyes that couldn't fail. 
 An' then bimeby with a jump an' a rush 
 Out he'd pop from th' alder brush 
 An' then — ker bang! — 'ud go your gun, 
 Wouldn't it joe? — an' wasn't it fun. 
 
 10 
 
Then we'd hike home ^gain, me an' you 
 
 Wouldn't we Joe? An' th' rabbit stew 
 
 'At your ma 'ud cook, like your ol' ma couldy 
 
 With dumplins in, it — wasn't it g'ood? 
 
 An' how I'd eat — An' so would you, 
 
 An' Sprint — he'd eat enough f er two. 
 
 An' yer ma 'ud smile, it 'ud tickle her so 
 
 T' see us a eatin'— wouldn't it Joe? 
 
 Wish we was back there — m^ an' you, 
 
 Stompin' around th' Kalamazoo — 
 
 Great ol' river, wasn't she Joe? 
 
 Wan't much about it we didn't know. 
 
 If we could git back there, you an' rne, 
 
 An' jest be boys like we uster be 
 
 'Round them ol' stompin' grounds we uster know, 
 
 We'd stay there forever, — wouldn't we Joe? 
 
 11 
 
Lait|tv*$ Panty 
 
 Wunst Larry Wright give a party, 
 
 When he lived on the hill ; 
 'Twas in the old times, long ago, 
 
 When we was little still; 
 An' I've most, almost, forgotted 
 
 All the little girls an' boys 
 That come to that air party 
 
 An' helped to make a noise. 
 
 But I can still remember tho' 
 
 O' how we all took sticks. 
 An' lined t'gether in a row 
 
 (Soldier folks, we thinks) ; 
 An' how we all marched 'crost the road 
 
 T' Lacy's home, an' then, 
 O' how we all o' us turned 'round 
 
 An' all marched back again. 
 
 An' I can sure remember 
 
 All them cakes — they was a dream ! — 
 An' fruit, an' chicken salad. 
 
 An' red an' white ice cream ! 
 An' Paul Erb frowed a biscuit 
 
 An' hit me in the eye, 
 An' nen Mis' Wright she jollied me 
 
 An' wouldn't let me crv. 
 
 12 
 
An' after that we played an' played, 
 
 An' nen we played some more. 
 Kicked up our heels an' squeeled 
 
 An' rolled around the floor ; 
 Nen by'nby, Mis' Wright she says 
 
 How glad she was we come, 
 An' nen we all put on our hats, 
 
 An' nen we all marched home. 
 
 Wuzn't them the bestest times. 
 
 Them times o' long ago? 
 Wuzn't them the bestest friends. 
 
 Them friends we useter know? 
 I wish that I could go clean back 
 
 To that afternoon an' night, 
 An' have that party over 
 
 That wuz give by Larry Wright. 
 
 13 
 
UJondenin' 
 
 Me, an' Pa, an' Ma, an' Mollie, 
 
 Sah, an' Emma with us, too. 
 Drove out to the cemetery — 
 
 Went to bury Orlando. 
 Stood beside the grave an' waited 
 
 While the parson read the text, 
 Stood beside the grave an' wondered 
 
 Which of us would be the next. 
 
 Me, an' Pa, an' Sah, an' Mollie 
 
 Stood together by the bed. 
 Eyes a-streamin', hearts a-achin'-^ ., 
 
 Little Mother lay there dead. ' ,' 
 Three days later, at th' fun'ral, '" ." 
 
 While the parson read the text. 
 Stood beside the grave an' wondered 
 
 Which of us would be the next. 
 
 Me, alone, up in the North woods, 
 Settin' 'round with heart like lead. 
 
 Grant had jest brought out the message- 
 Telegram that Pa was dead. 
 
 Hurried home an' caught th' fun'ral, 
 An' as the parson read the text, 
 
 Stood beside the grave an' wondered 
 Which of us would be the next. 
 
 •U 
 
Me an' Mollie, one Spring mornin', 
 
 Walked out to the little lot, 
 Sat down by the graves an' rested, 
 
 Jest us two; an' then I thought, 
 In time they'll be another fun'ral. 
 
 An' as the parson reads the text, 
 'Twon't take a powerful heap o' guessin' 
 
 T' tell whose turn is comin' next. 
 
 15 
 
$pttins O^ ycait 
 
 Spring is here, an' it's a seemin' 
 Like it's time to git to dreamin' ; 
 See that same ol' sun a beamin' 
 With his face chuck full o' cheer? 
 
 Ducks and geese are all a-flyin', 
 Robins chirpin', peewees cryin'; 
 What's the use to think o' dyin* 
 At this happy time o' year? 
 
 Now's the time o' April showers, 
 April breezes, April flowers ; 
 Sunny days an' happy hours, 
 Cheer in everythin' you see. 
 
 Trees are leafin', daisies springing 
 Every bird is busy singin', 
 All the world with joy's a'ringin' — 
 Spring o' year's th' time for me. 
 
 16 
 
Tbc 01' Familiap Coion 
 
 I don't reckon that you people 
 Who stay home the year aroun', 
 Are a-notin' o' the changes 
 In the ol' familiar town, 
 Like me who jest drops in there 
 Fer a minute now and then, 
 An' takes a hasty look aroun' 
 An' then hikes out again. 
 
 Altho' I ain't a kicker yet. 
 
 I'm some constrained ter say 
 
 That I wasn't much impressed 
 
 By what I saw the other day. 
 
 One side o' Main street all ripped up 
 
 An' full o' stones an' sticks, 
 
 An' the other side all nicely paved 
 
 With big, red pavin' bricks. 
 
 An' right down through the middle 
 O' that wide ol' sleepy street, 
 The electric cars was runnin' — 
 Why, I never saw the beat ! 
 To think o' Marshall actin' up 
 Jest like a great big city. 
 With all them high falutin' airs — 
 It's jest a mortal pity. 
 
 17 
 
I noticed how the oprey house 
 
 Stood on the ol' location, 
 
 An' how the same ol' fellers was 
 
 A-hangin" 'round the station. 
 
 There was Sol McN'ames an' Billy Holmes 
 
 An' Andy Harrigan, 
 
 An' ol' Lafe Cole an' Jim Fahey — 
 
 But I missed ol' Pokey Dan. 
 
 I noticed 'mongst th' others 
 That Gran'pa Shoop was there; 
 But I couldn't see Dick Butler 
 Er John Powell anywhere. 
 And there was lots of others 
 Of the ol' boys that I missed, 
 But it made me sort o' glad ter see 
 Tom Wright still on th' list. 
 
 He come along an' shook my hand 
 An' passed the time o' day, 
 An' handed me a big slice o' 
 That smile that's there to stay. 
 Tom's a justice now, you know. 
 An' by ginger ! I declare 
 That him an' lawyer Eddie 
 Makes a purty foxy pair. 
 
 18 
 
Tom, he writes the warrants up 
 
 An' John Bean runs 'em in, 
 
 An' Den'son takes th' pris'ner's part 
 
 An' argifies fer him. 
 
 An' so betwixt the three o' them, 
 
 The other feller, he's well — 
 
 "That's the way the money goes, 
 Pop goes the weasel," 
 
 They've got a bran' new school house 
 
 An' a new ol' ladies' home. 
 
 Which they say was somewhat damaged 
 
 By a recent big cyclone. 
 
 An' they got a bran' new depot 
 
 Where the street cars comes an' goes, 
 
 An' I noticed Hoppy Hagan's 
 
 Got a branf new suit o' clothes. 
 
 Yes, ol' Marshall's sure a-boomin'. 
 She's sure a-flyin' high. 
 I guess she'll beat Chicago 
 If she keeps on — bye an' bye. 
 But I guess before she does it 
 She'll have ter jest arouse 
 Herself, an' sort o' hump aroun' 
 An' build a oprey house. 
 
 19 
 
Round tbc 01' Kazoo 
 
 I've been wandering over the ol' grounds, Joe, 
 
 An' over the paths we used to know 
 
 So well in the days when we were boys 
 
 And knew the pleasure o' youthful joys. 
 
 I strolled out the old elm shaded street. 
 
 To where the town and the country meet 
 
 At the iron bridge, it stands there still — 
 
 And what do you think 'bout Cleveland's mill? 
 
 They've taken the ol' wheel out where we 
 Used to set an' fish, and Kite Holmes he 
 Fell off'n it once, remember that? 
 An' how Mud Belcher chased his hat 
 Clear to the ol' tree swimmin' hole 
 An' fished it out with his fishin' pole, 
 An' I laughed so hard I cried, an' you — 
 You laughed so hard you fell in, too. 
 
 I wandered over to Davis's wood. 
 
 That is, the place where the ol' wood stood, 
 
 (Most of the trees are chopped down now). 
 
 An' the ol' split maple — 'member how 
 
 That time that Eddie Klugman dim' 
 
 Up, an' got caught on a limb 
 
 By the seat o' his pants, 'n me 'n you 
 
 Laughed till we was black and blue? 
 
 20 
 
CLEVELAND'S MILL 
 
By the ol' tree swimmin' hole I passed — 
 My, but it's changed since I saw it last! 
 The ol' bank's almost washed away 
 An' the ol' stump's gone. — Remember th' day 
 That we tied Dad Walburn's shirt an' socks, 
 And he got so mad that he heaved rocks 
 At us, an' we all yelled "Chaw beef," 
 When he tried to untie 'em with his teeth? 
 
 Wouldn't you like to get back here, Joe? 
 Along with the gang that you uster know. 
 And have Sprint Townsend with us too, 
 An' do the things that we used to do? 
 If you would, then why don't you take a hint 
 An' come along down here, you an' Sprint. 
 You won't find everything here you knew. 
 But you'll find me an' th' ol' Kazoo. 
 
 21 
 
Long in 3unc 
 
 Bees air buzzin' in th' clover, 
 Medder larks air singin' 'roun', 
 Shop's closed up, an' things air sort o' 
 Sultry like aroun' th' town. 
 Took my pole an' went a hikin' 
 Out along the Rice Creek stream, 
 Stretched out where th' leaves air thickest 
 Ter set an' dream. 
 
 Heard a gol darn red head peckin' 
 
 Way off yonder in th' wood, 
 
 Heard a little brown thrush singin'. 
 
 Golly ! but it sounded good. 
 
 'Less you've worked th' hull blame winter. 
 
 You don't know how good it seem' 
 
 Jest ter git out in th' bush 
 
 An' set an' dream. 
 
 Had a bite an' didn't know it, j 
 
 Watchin' that blame red squirrel play, [ 
 
 Wished that I could go a scootin' j 
 
 Through th' branches that-a-way. j 
 
 Wish the blame ol' mill 'u'd burn i 
 
 Or they'd bust their darn machine ! 
 
 An' I could stav ris^ht here all summer I 
 
 An' set an' dream. 
 
 22 
 
Cbc OP Toipn 
 
 Alluz asleep. Alluz asleep. 
 
 I go away, an' out in th' worl', 
 
 I find everything in a roar an' a whirl, 
 
 A-bangin' an' slammin', 
 
 A rippin' an' rammin' 
 
 A-shovin' an' pushin', 
 
 An' tearin' an' crushin' — 
 
 But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 
 
 Alluz asleep. Alluz asleep. 
 
 Peaceful an' still. Peaceful an' still. 
 Out in th' worl' they's a roar an' a howl. 
 Rumble an' grumble, an' snarl an' g'rowl, 
 Never an end t' th' wrastle an' fight, 
 Never a rest from morn' till night — 
 But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 
 Peaceful an' still. Peaceful an' still. 
 
 Quiet an' dead. Quiet an' dead. 
 
 Outside th' worl' is chuck full o' life, 
 
 Th' songs an' th' shouts of th' gay an' th' blithe, 
 
 A-whoopin' an' runnin' 
 
 An' troopin' an' funnin', 
 
 A-jumpin' an' prancin' 
 
 An' jiggin' an' dancin' — 
 
 But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 
 
 Quiet an' dead. Quiet an' dead. 
 
 23 
 
Back Hum 
 
 I sometimes get ter thinkin' 
 
 When the autumn clays have come, 
 An' the leaves are turnin' yeller, 
 
 That Fd like ter get back hum. 
 Back to that old dreamv town 
 
 That I left years ago, 
 Back among old mem'ries. 
 
 And the boys I used ter know. 
 
 Lawsy ! when I think about 
 
 Them good old days gone by, 
 I get so blessed hum sick 
 
 That I almost wanter cry. 
 I try to keep on laughin' 
 
 An' not be sour an' glum, 
 But I jest can't help a thinkin' 
 
 That I'd like ter get back hum. 
 
 I get so blessed sick o' this 
 
 Blame prairie, makes me swear. 
 Nary tree er bird er 
 
 Sheet o' water anywhere. 
 Jest this blame land stretchin' ofif 
 
 It seems ter kingdom come. 
 An' burnin' up, an' blame it all 
 
 I wanter git back hum. 
 
 24r 
 
There's a powerful lot o' sentiment 
 
 An' truth, in "Hum Sweet Hum," 
 And it don't take much ter find it out 
 
 Er git you thinkin' some. 
 And sometimes when you're lonesome, 
 
 An' th' hull world's out o' plumb, 
 You'll catch yourself a wishin' 
 
 That you'd like ter git back hum. 
 
 25 
 
B IDodeitn Rip Van Olinklc 
 
 This is a story of long ^RO, 
 
 But wholly true, as the records show ; 
 
 A tale of a century, passed away, 
 
 Lost to memory, gone to decay. 
 
 I was a lad of youth sublime 
 
 Back in that olden, golden time. 
 
 Never a worry jor care I had — 
 
 Ha! I was a blithesome, happy lad, 
 
 Living at ease in the old, old town. 
 
 Chasing the butterflies up and down ; 
 
 Over the meadows I romped and ran — 
 
 Naught I cared for the toils of man ; 
 
 Sought but the pleasures that life can give, 
 
 Asked naught, but to do my way and live. 
 
 Thus, one glorious summer day, 
 
 I was whiling the hours away, 
 
 Down by the singing river's brink, 
 
 Where I often went to lie and think. 
 
 There in the forest shade alone. 
 
 And dream the dreams that were all my own. 
 
 Thus, as I lay 'neath the willow tree, 
 A woman came and sat by me — 
 A woman? No ! a hideous hag 
 Clothed in a dirty, tattered rag ; 
 
 26 
 
Toothless, grisly, gaunt and grim. 
 
 With eye& that were watery, red and dim ! 
 
 Naught she spoke but sat her there, 
 
 And watched with a horrible, gloating stare, 
 
 'Till at last I cried from very fear, 
 
 "Woman, begone! What want you here? 
 
 Why do you come to this quiet place 
 
 To break my dreams with your hideous face? 
 
 Get you gone, you ugly shrew, 
 
 I want nothing to do with you." 
 
 Then the creature laughed a devilish squal. 
 
 That made my very marrow crawl, " 
 
 And ogled and glowered and laughed again, 
 
 'Til the murmuring echoes took up the strain 
 
 And rattled it down through the wooded dell, 
 
 'Til methought and answer laughed back from hell. 
 
 "What want ye here?" once more I cried. 
 
 And then the jibbering wretch replied, 
 
 "Son," she said, "it amuses me 
 
 So surly and peevish a youth to see. 
 
 What ails ye, lad, that ye seem to be 
 
 So little pleased with my company? 
 
 Forsooth, ye've no cause for alarm, 
 
 I come not here to do you harm. 
 
 But only to chat a quiet hour 
 
 With you here in this shady bower. 
 
 And permitting me, if you would — 
 
 Perchance I might do you some good. 
 
 27 
 
For what cause then do ye rant and rage? 
 My son, can ye not respect old age?" 
 ''Well, then," said I, 'who might you be? 
 And what great good would you do me? 
 If talk you must, come, say your say. 
 But finish soon and go your way. 
 I come not here to this quiet stream 
 To talk, I come to dream, to dream !" 
 
 "To dream of what, my lad?" ask-ed she. 
 Perchance that's where my help will be." 
 "Good!" I cried, "do you deal in dreams? 
 From your looks, you are a witch, it seems. 
 Then kindly work your spell on me 
 And realize this fantasy 
 That has harassed me thro' all these years, 
 Plunging me first in hope then tears. 
 Seeming so near and yet so far — 
 But first, please tell me who you are." 
 
 She said "Would ye know me then, my man? 
 I am the ruler of a world-wide clan, 
 A people, who know no nation's rule. 
 No nation's law, no nation's school. 
 Look to the north and the south,'' she said, 
 "Look to that west where the sun sets red. 
 Look to the east, through all these lands 
 You'll find them scattered, the gypsy bands, 
 
 2S 
 
And all of them know me as their queen, 
 For I am the queen, I am Lucene. 
 Tell me wherein your trouble lies. 
 Tell me this dream you would realize ; 
 If possible, and I have no doubt 
 But what I can, I will fetch it out." 
 
 "So be it then, old witch," I cried, 
 
 And straightway did my dream describe — 
 
 The dream of a hope that was all in vain, 
 
 A hope impossible to attain. 
 
 'Twas only this that could make me sad, 
 
 For I was a blithesome, happy lad ; 
 
 Never a worry or care had I, 
 
 Except when I thought on this fantasy, 
 
 And hoped, and yearned, that in time Fd see 
 
 That might, which isn't, what ought to be, 
 
 Or, that which isn't, but might be still, 
 
 What might have been, but never will. 
 
 This I told to the gipsy witch, 
 
 This one sad blight of my whole life, which 
 
 Was my fondest hope, and greatest wish, 
 
 To see built up in Marshall, Mich., 
 
 An opera house. "Good faith !" cried she, 
 
 "Is that all?" "Well yes, it ought to be, 
 
 When all is considered," I replied, 
 
 "And viewing it from every side, 
 
 I must admit that tho' it appear 
 
 29 
 
Trivial, still it is, I fear, 
 
 A hopeless hope, not to be attained, 
 
 A dream whose object never can be gained." 
 
 ''What's that?" cried she, "a hopeless hope? 
 
 Nay, nay, my lad, I've got the dope. 
 
 See," — And she untied a pack 
 
 Strapped upon her bony back 
 
 And opening it, she brought to view 
 
 A bottle filled with some strange brew; 
 
 It was of color a brilliant green 
 
 With a weird and fascinating sheen, 
 
 Like we sometimes see in a serpent's eye, 
 
 ''And what might this stuff be?" asked I. 
 
 "This," she said, "is the greatest balm 
 
 Of human kind, and it will calm 
 
 The most turbulent spirits, and imparts 
 
 Good cheer and joy to the saddest hearts." 
 
 Then taking from her pack a glass, 
 A small one, of the whiskey class. 
 She filled and handed it to me, 
 Saying, "Now then we shall see 
 If your refractory hope 
 Won't yield to this seductive dope. 
 Drink it, my lad, and I surmise 
 Your dream will quickly realize." 
 
 30 
 
Then eagerly I drained the glass. 
 
 I know not how it came to pass — 
 
 The trees and sky seemed disarranged, 
 
 And then — presto ! — all had changed. 
 
 The witch and stream were gone, and I, 
 
 Sore astonished, was standing by 
 
 A building, of architecture grand, 
 
 The work, nO' doubt, of a master hand. 
 
 Stately columns of marble stone 
 
 And sculptured like I have never known, 
 
 Magnificent arches and lights that shed 
 
 A radiance over every head, 
 
 And in through the wide and stately door 
 
 Went a stream of people, rich and poor. 
 
 Perplexed and bewildered I 
 
 Watched these people passing by 
 
 And wondered what, and wondered why, 
 
 And where, and how it was that I 
 
 Was there — I could not understand. 
 
 Nor whence had come this structure grand. 
 
 I turned to someone standing near 
 
 And asked, ''What is this building here?" 
 
 "What's that?" cried he, "why know you not 
 
 This blessing that old Marshall's got? 
 
 'Tis the opera house, and opening night ; 
 
 It's free — go in and see the sight. 
 
 But hurry, for the building's jammed!" 
 
 I softly whispered — "Well, I'll be damned !" 
 
 31 
 
Couldn't help it, had to swear, 
 And kicked my heels up in the air, 
 And capered 'round just like a boy, 
 And whooped and laugfhed for very joy. 
 At last, my dream, my fondest wish, 
 An opera house in Marshall, Mich., 
 Was realized, — and in I went, 
 On full investigation bent. 
 
 Ye gods ! To describe it I'll not try, 
 
 The spectacle that met my eye. 
 
 Purple curtains of plush and silk. 
 
 Columns that glittered with silver and gilt, 
 
 Alyriad colored lights that blazed 
 
 With radiance of a million stars, and dazed 
 
 Me with the splendor of it all ; 
 
 Beautiful paintings on the wall, 
 
 And gorgeous frescoes on the ceiling: 
 
 Entrancing music that came pealing 
 
 From out the pit of the orchestra, 
 
 (Which was Marshall's, by the way) 
 
 And the people in the audience — 
 
 Many I recognized at once. 
 
 He, of the tablet and raven hair, 
 
 The belt of Jupiter man, was there ; 
 
 Likewise he, whose head was bare. 
 
 Also he, who was lank and spare ; 
 
 Each had contributed each his share 
 
 To this magificent, grand affair. 
 
 32 
 
And the play — the play was a tragedy, 
 
 The title of which was "Never to Be." 
 
 Rather strange, I philosophized, ' ' 
 
 When the never to be was realized, J 
 
 And the play went on in a kind of maze, ; 
 
 For I seemed to be in a dreamy daze, ] 
 
 And drifting — drifting* it seemed thro' air, 
 
 Tho' I knew I sat in the theater chair. J 
 
 But the play went on and so did I, 
 
 Tho' I heard not the lines of the tragedy. 
 
 Hours — days — and years it seemed 
 
 Went by, as I sat in the chair and dreamed — : 
 
 Dreaming — I knew not what, only ; 
 
 That the dream was sweet as a summer day. j 
 
 'Till finally a lull came o'er the place 
 
 And I roused and glanced at my neighbor's face j 
 
 And it caused me to start up in affright j 
 
 And cry aloud at the horrible sight, j 
 
 For he and all the others there j 
 Grinned with a horrible, ghostly stare. . I 
 
 All were dead, and every one | 
 
 Was a ghastly, grinning skeleton. I 
 
 The splendid frescoes on the ceiling \ 
 
 And paintings on the wall were peeling. ' 
 
 Hideous bugs crawled on the wall ; \ 
 
 Damp and dust were over all, i 
 
 The musty curtains hung in shreds \ 
 
 And spiders spun their silken threads. I 
 
 33 
 
From skull to skull and in and out 
 
 Thro' eyeless sockets, worms crawled about. 
 
 It was, indeed, a ghastly sight 
 
 That met my gaze that fateful night, 
 
 Too horrified to move, I sat 
 
 Petrified, when a great bat 
 
 Flew in my face, and with a scream 
 
 I woke, to find it all a dream. 
 
 The river sang its reedy way. 
 The birds were singing blithe and gay, 
 And by my side I found the vial. 
 Whose contents had for one short while 
 Made real my dream, my hopeless hope. 
 But alas ! Fd found it a hopeless dope. 
 The bottle was still three-quarters full 
 And the color grown a trifle dull, 
 I cast it from me with a frown 
 And made my way into the town. 
 And here the sight that met my eyes 
 Most truly filled me with surprise. 
 Buildings that Fd never seen 
 Stood where the ones I knew had been. 
 The place had changed from end to end, 
 Nor could I find a single friend; 
 Not one acquaintance could I meet 
 Among the people on the street. 
 
 34 
 
Astonished and bewildered I 
 
 Stopped a party passing by 
 
 And begged them to tell me what 
 
 Had so changed the old familiar spot, 
 
 Where were the people that I knew, 
 
 And whence had come these buildings new? 
 
 They looked at me in cold surprise, 
 
 As if my talk had given rise 
 
 To doubts, as to my sanity. 
 
 Then one replied, "Sir, what d' you say? 
 
 I do not understand, I fear. 
 
 These buildings, you call new, were here 
 
 When I was born, years ago. 
 
 And as to people that you know, 
 
 If you know not these, I g'reatly fear 
 
 You'll find none, they too were born here." 
 
 "Is this not Marshall?" then I cried. 
 
 "It surely is," the man replied. 
 
 "Then what you say, sir, can't be true," 
 
 I said, "For know you not I, too. 
 
 Was born here. What does it mean? 
 
 Your friends here I have never seen. 
 
 And yet I'm sure 'twas yesterday. 
 
 No longer gone, I passed this way, 
 
 And all these buildings I see now 
 
 Were not here then, on that I'll vow." 
 
 At this the crowd around me laughed 
 
 35 
 
And one remarked, "He's gone clean daft." 
 'TVe not," I cried. "Where's old Tom Wright? 
 I think he'll soon set matters right." 
 "Tom Wright," said they, "pray who is he? 
 We know him not, but here's John B., 
 
 The only Wright who's come this way 
 
 For fully half a century." 
 
 Then John stepped out, an aged man, 
 
 Who had surely passed the four score span, 
 
 "Do you mean old Thomas N?" 'asked he. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "Where might he be?" 
 
 Then old John laughed — "Ho ! ho ! well, well ! 
 
 Where might he be? — 'Tis hard to tell. 
 
 He means my grand dad, it appears, 
 
 Why, he's been dead a hundred years." 
 
 "A hundred years !" I cried aghast, 
 
 As the truth began to dawn at last, 
 
 "Old man, is that the truth you spoke, 
 
 Or is it merely an idle joke? 
 
 What year is this? Come now, no tricks!" 
 
 He answered, "Twenty hundred and six." 
 
 I was stunned, but I knew it all w^as true, 
 The evidence I could not misconstrue; 
 I read it plain in every face, 
 And in the changes of the place. 
 "Over a hundred years," I cried, 
 "Since I lay down by the river side 
 
 36 
 
And talked to that old gipsy witch 
 
 And drank that cursed potion which 
 
 Had caused me to sleep for a century, 
 
 And made it seem but one short day, 
 
 And to dream of that hopeless — Ha ! but wait, 
 
 It mig'ht be true, it was not too late 
 
 To realize that old fantasy. 
 
 "Has Marshall an opera, house yet?" asked I. 
 
 Then o'er each face came a sudden gloom, 
 
 *Tt is something, sir, we have never known, 
 
 But we're to have one in a future day. 
 
 For shortly now, so the papers say, 
 
 There will be a meeting of prominent men 
 
 Who will organize a stock company — then 
 
 We are going to build !" — "Oh, rats !" I cried, 
 
 And wandered back to the river side. 
 
 I found the bottle among the rushes 
 And a quiet spot among the bushes, 
 And sat me down and wrote this story, 
 And now that it's finished in all it's glory. 
 The contents of that bottle I'm going to drink 
 To the very last drop, and then I'll sink 
 Into utter oblivion, beside this river 
 Where I hope I'll sleep and dream forever. 
 
 37 
 
Gull Lake 
 
 Green grow your banks, oh bonny Gull, 
 
 Upon your peaceful breast 
 The music of your wavelets lull 
 
 All nature into rest. 
 Among your trees the robin trills 
 
 His little song of love, 
 While in your bushes coos and bills 
 
 The gentle mourning dove. 
 
 You are a palace, bonny Gull, 
 
 Of architecture rare. 
 Your chambers all are beautiful. 
 
 Your halls beyond compare. 
 Your crystal waters are your floor, 
 
 Your walls are green and high, 
 Your vine hung outlet is a door. 
 
 Your ceiling is the sky. 
 
 I love you dearly, bonny Gull, 
 
 I love your groves and highlands, 
 I love your waters clear and cool, 
 
 I love your bays and islands. 
 If I could dwell beside your shore. 
 
 Or by your peaceful river, 
 I'd be content and ask no more 
 
 Than live and live forever. 
 
 38 
 
td 
 o 
 "^ 
 
 H 
 Q 
 
 a 
 
$pitingtime Ruminations 
 
 It seems ter me it's time ter take 
 
 A pack an' hike fer ol' Gull lake; 
 
 I'm overdue an' I sure hate 
 
 T' come a hikin' back there late. 
 
 Don't doubt but what th' robin^s there, 
 
 An' peewee an' — I do declare — 
 
 I'll bet that blame ol' yeller shack 
 
 'S a-wonderin' why I ain't got back. 
 
 Must be most time fer trees ter bud, 
 An' frogs come crawlin' out th' mudr 
 An' holler round in them ol' bogs, 
 An' mate an' lay their pollywogs. 
 Don't s'pose th' oriole's got there yet 
 To th' dog-wood tree — but say, I'll bet 
 That ol' red-head in th' poplar tree 
 'S a-wonderin' what's become o' me. 
 
 Long about this time o' year 
 
 Th' water in th' lake's so clear 
 
 Jest fairly makes you gasp an' stare — 
 
 It's jest like lookin' right through air. 
 
 Time is past — er jest begun 
 
 The time, you know, the suckers run. 
 
 An' I'll bet ol' sucker asks his mate 
 
 ''Wonder why that feller's late?" 
 
 39 
 
Turtles out on my front stoop^ 
 (Td like a bowl o' turtle soup), 
 An' fish are prime, an' I guess how 
 That ol' back pasture holds a cow. 
 An' down 'round Yorkville neighborhood 
 I guess b'gosh, my credit's good 
 Fer bread an' cookies, pie an' meat; 
 Don't worry much 'bout what I'll eat. 
 
 S'pose I'll get there kind o' lame, 
 
 But th' birds — they'll all sing-jest th' same; 
 
 An' bees'll buzz, and frogs'U yell, 
 
 An' Chip'll ring his ol' bus bell. 
 
 An' th' ol' world, she'll wag along 
 
 A-keepin' time t' Bob White's song. 
 
 An' we'll be happy — will us three — 
 
 My ol' shack. Gull lake, an' me. 
 
 40 
 
Back JIaain 
 
 Back again, by golly ! 
 
 Do seem sartin good 
 T' be perambulatin' 
 
 Again 'round this wood. 
 See 'at same ol' Pee-wee, 
 
 Sassy tail a bobbin' — 
 Hey ! there goes th' Chipmunk, 
 
 An' — hello, there, Robin, 
 You back? Glad t' see ye, 
 
 S'pose ye'll build yer nest 
 Same ol' place as last year — 
 
 Guess it's 'bout th' best. 
 
 Where's that gol-darn Red-head? 
 
 Hello! There he goes 
 A rat-a-tat-tat-tatin' 
 
 Bangin' o' his nose. 
 What's that air a holl'rin' 
 
 An' yellin' 'way off there? 
 Must be that ol' Blue-jay. 
 
 Why, t'is, I do declare. 
 Knew his voice th' minit 
 
 He let that holler out ; 
 I'd know it 'mongst a thousan' 
 
 I ain't a nary doubt. 
 
 41 
 
What you runnin off fer? " 
 
 I ain't goin' t' hurt ye ! 
 Y' Red Squirrel, y' act 'sif 
 
 Y' thot th' darn groun' burnt ye. 
 Come back an' git acquainted 
 
 With a feller critter, won't ye? 
 I only want t' be yer friend, 
 
 I don't want t' hunt ye. 
 See that little King-bird 
 
 Chasin' that dum Hawk, 
 Ain't they jes a goin' it? 
 
 Hear that bugger squawk. 
 Blamest lot o' howlin' 
 
 From a hawk I ever heard ; 
 Guess he thinks tarnation 
 
 Is in that little bird. 
 
 There's that ol' Kingfisher 
 
 Settin' on a lim'. 
 Him an' me is pardners, 
 
 We fish — me an' him. 
 I do my fishin' in a boat 
 
 Er settin' in th' shack, 
 AMiile he gets up on top a tree 
 
 An' does th' high dive act. 
 Trees air all a leafin', 
 
 Things air lookin' up; 
 
 42 
 
Here's a little May flower, 
 There's a Buttercup. 
 
 See th' water sparkle, 
 Nothin' seems t' lack ; 
 
 Mighty glad I'm back agin 
 T' my ol' yeller shack. 
 
 43 
 
/In Inuitatton 
 
 Wheat's a gettin' yeller, 
 
 Corn's a-growin' fine. 
 Little melons comin' on 
 
 The watermelon vine. 
 Birds air all a-singin', 
 
 Sky is clear and blue — 
 Better come to Gull lake 
 
 An' spend a day or two. 
 
 Fish air all a-bitin', 
 
 Swimmin's outer sight ; 
 Great, big moon a-shinin' 
 
 In the sky 'most every night. 
 Chicken on the fence rail 
 
 Makes a juicy stew — 
 Better come to Gull lake 
 
 An' spend a day or two. 
 
 Lawsy ! but the sunshine, 
 
 Th' water an' th' shade 
 On this here reservation's 
 
 Th' best twuz ever made, 
 Better take yer foot an' 
 
 Stuflf it in yer shoe, 
 An' come a hikin' out here 
 
 An' spend a day or two. 
 
 44 
 
n Pitotest 
 
 Y' say y' can't see nothin' pretty, 
 S'pose it's cause yer from th' city, 
 
 Dunno how ! 
 Wouldn't know a sweet wild daisy 
 From a tissue paper poesy, 
 
 I'll allow. 
 But say, look where you oughter. 
 See that sky-blue sheet o' water. 
 
 See it flash? 
 See it ripp'lin' an' a sparklin' 
 An' a dimplin' an' a darklin' 
 
 See th' grass 
 On th' em'rald shores that bound it? 
 An' th' trees that grow around it 
 
 Hear them birds 
 A-singin' in th' bushes, 
 Hear them frogs there in th' rushes. 
 
 See them herds 
 A-browsin' on th' hill there. 
 Hear that Bobolink an' Killdeer? 
 
 Goodness sake ! 
 Y'll find out's a reg'lar paradise. 
 When y' learn t' use yer ears an' eyes, 
 
 'Round this lake. 
 See them pretty violets growin', 
 See them water lilies blowin' 
 
 Over there? 
 
 45 
 
Did y' ever in th' city, 
 
 See a sight, sir, half so pretty, 
 
 Half so fair? 
 This is truly Nature's garden, 
 Prettiest spot — eh? Beg yer pardon — 
 
 Who' th' gardner? 
 Who's th' one that spades an' digs it, 
 Culls an' prunes an' trims an' twigs it? 
 
 God is, pardner. 
 He's th' gen'ral sup'rintendent, 
 He's this garden's main dependant, 
 
 Keeps it green. 
 Prettiest place m all creation. 
 As sweet a spot as any nation 
 
 Ever seen. 
 You kin talk of other places 
 That have marble walks an' vases ; 
 
 Wouldn't take 
 All them outfits in th' land,sir, 
 Fer a half a cup o' sand sir, 
 
 From Gull lake. 
 
 46 
 
THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 
 
The Little Rvown Eyed La$$ 
 
 Down where the river broadens 
 
 Just above the old stone bridge, 
 Where the sunHght softly filters, 
 
 Through the elm trees on the ridg'e. 
 Where the wild grape vine is clinging 
 
 O'er the water gently swinging. 
 There the birds were ever singing 
 
 Of a little brown eyed lass. 
 
 Where we drifted in the shadows 
 
 Of that sweet old long ago. 
 And the birds — they helped me tell her 
 
 How I loved her, loved her so, 
 And her answer, softly spoken 
 
 By her honeyed lips, gave token 
 Of a compact long since broken 
 
 By a little brown eyed lass. 
 
 Those green, sweet scented bowers ; 
 
 Ah ! what memories they hold 
 Of the fount of love's young passions 
 
 That were quenched but never cold. 
 Where her dark red golden tresses 
 
 Seemed to fold me in their meshes 
 As I showered sweet caresses 
 
 On the little brown eyed lass. 
 
 47 
 
I wonder does she ever, 
 
 In her thoughts or in a dream, 
 Go back to those old days along 
 
 That shady, quiet stream. 
 With its ivy and its flowers 
 
 And its deep, green shady bowers, 
 And the sunshine and the showers 
 
 And the little brown eyed lass. 
 
 And down where the river broadens ; 
 
 Just above the old stone bridge, 
 Where the silver leaf is growing 
 
 On the banks along the edge, 
 The years decay are bringing, 
 
 But fond memory still is clinging, 
 And the birds seem ever singing 
 
 Of a little brown eved lass. 
 
 48 
 
Cbe Outlet 
 
 Jest as pretty as a picture. 
 
 Nary ripple, nary breeze, 
 To disturb the peaceful quiet 
 
 O' th' water an' th' trees ; 
 An' the- fragrance o' th' sumac 
 
 Creepin' through th' atmosphere, 
 Mixin' with th' drone o' insects, 
 
 Makes you glad that you are here. 
 
 Elderberry blossoms shinin' 
 
 Starry like against th' green ; 
 Ivy hangin' o'er th' water 
 
 Like a fairy palace screen — 
 Hear th' water kind o' murmur 
 
 Like an ol' forgotten song, 
 Bringin' back some ol' sweet mem'ry, 
 
 Dreamin' as you drift along*. 
 
 Overhead th' vines are swingin'. 
 
 Overhead th' elm trees meet, 
 Shuttin' in refreshin' coolness, 
 
 Shuttin' out th' stiflin' heat. 
 Up there through th' leaves an' branches. 
 
 Catch a glimpse o' sunny skies, 
 Watch th' dreamy colors fleetin' — 
 
 Little piece o' paradise ! 
 
 40 
 
H Little Shack $cpmon 
 
 Oh, the (lays are warm and bahny. 
 
 And the world is full o' joy, 
 And I'm feeling just as frisky 
 
 As when I was a boy. 
 Th' buds are all a bustin' 
 
 An' the dust's begun to fly. 
 An' I'm kind o' sort o' feelin' 
 
 Like I never want to die. 
 
 My, the medder's lookin' handsome! 
 
 An' jest the other day 
 I heard a little lark out in 
 
 The ol' back forty say- 
 That he'd traveled in Kentucky 
 
 And he'd been in Florida, 
 But he reckoned how this weather 
 
 Beat them others every way. 
 
 An' jest then a little robin got 
 
 Conversing like with me. 
 Said he wa'n't much on philos'phy, 
 
 But, b'gosh, he couldn't see 
 Why 'twas men folks was never 
 
 Satisfied or yet content, 
 But kci)t kickin' on th' weather 
 
 No matter how it went. 
 
 50 
 
And jest then a little peewee 
 
 Chirped up real pert an' bold, 
 Said, "Men folks is always kickin' 
 
 When it's jest a little cold." 
 An' he further said in passin', 
 
 "In a week's time like as not. 
 They'll be jawin' round like sixty, 
 
 Cause it's jest a little hot. 
 
 Then they all joined in together 
 
 An' sang me a little song. 
 An' the theme was, "Jest be happy, 
 
 Let th' old world wag along 
 Any blame way that she pleases. 
 
 An' you'll find this motto true, 
 If you'll only jest be happy 
 
 She'll be always bright to you." 
 
 P. S. 
 I might further say in passin', 
 
 If the aunt of Doll Louise 
 Will jest take her op'ry glasses 
 
 An' git out here 'mongst the trees. 
 She'll be pow'ful interested 
 
 In the spectacle she'll see, 
 For a mountain wood peck's nested 
 
 In the Red Head's poplar tree. 
 
 51 
 
lUcathcp $ign$ 
 
 De fields am lurnin* yeller 
 
 An' de leaves am turnin' red, 
 De corn am dry an' riistlin' 
 
 An' de daisys all am dead. 
 An' (Ic ^v()()d chuck say he reckon 
 
 It's most time ter go ter bed, 
 So I guess it's time ter look out fer de winter. 
 
 De politician reckons dat it's- 
 
 Gittin' time ter vote, 
 An' de raccoon's sent his order 
 
 Fer his winter overcoat, 
 An' Norton's gittin' ready 
 
 Fer ter store away his boat, 
 So I guess it's time ter look out fer de winter. 
 
 Musk rats mighty busy now 
 
 A shinglin' up der roof, 
 An' de possum he complainin' 
 
 Dat he ain't got clothes enuflf, 
 An' dem am signs I reckon 
 
 Dat am pretty sutton proof 
 Dat it must be time to look out fer de winter. 
 
 52 
 
Retrospect 
 
 I met you first in a hammock 
 
 In the grove of Idlewild, 
 
 I was only a half grown boy, 
 
 And you were only a child ; 
 
 I was too young to understand, 
 
 And you were too young to know 
 
 Of the great white light that came into my life, 
 
 And, that I loved you so. 
 
 Our first quarrel was smoothed in a hammock, 
 
 On a porch in old Kazoo, 
 
 And I told you then that I loved you so 
 
 And you promised that you'd be true. 
 
 But one man says, what the other man says, 
 
 And, you were too young to know 
 
 That the great white light was dimming fast 
 
 And, that I loved you so. 
 
 I saw you last in a hammock. 
 
 On the shores of the Michigan, 
 
 You were sitting contented and happy, 
 
 By the side of another man ; 
 
 Then the merciful night shut out the sight, 
 
 For you were too young to know 
 
 That the great white light went out that night 
 
 Andj that I loved you so. 
 
 53 
 
And the days and the nights of the hammock- 
 Are long, and long ago, 
 And over the sand, with a groping hand, 
 Tottering, feeble and slow, 
 A blind man goes on forever — 
 And you are too young to know 
 Tliat the light that led is cold and dead 
 And, that I love you so. 
 
 54 
 
lilhen You lilent Home 
 
 When you went home,the void you left behind 
 
 Seemed chaos, and the shadows settled fast, 
 And the g'loominess that now pervades my mind 
 
 Is likened to a dark sky overcast. 
 Today, I wander dreary and alone 
 
 Through empty rooms that still more empty seem 
 Because of your sweet presence which is gone. 
 
 Leaving but a fondly cherished dream. 
 
 A dream I know the years cannot efface, 
 
 Tho' I should live through an eternity, 
 No other charms, I feel, can e'er displace 
 
 Those few short hours I had you yesterday. 
 And as the robin of his mate bereft 
 
 Disconsolately mourns upon the tree, 
 Knowing nO' comfort, so when you had left, 
 
 I mourned for your sweet presence lost to me. 
 
 Alas, for mortal man, who can but live 
 
 Within the present ; that present, bitter gall, 
 Still hoping that the future yet may give 
 
 The sweet, dead pleasures he cannot recall. 
 And thus, dear heart, I sadly long for you, 
 
 The touch of your soft hand, so fondly pressed, 
 The gleam of eyes so tender, brown and true. 
 
 The pressure of your form against my breast. 
 
 55 
 
When you went home, although but yesterday, 
 
 So deeply have I mourned your presence gone, 
 ^riie time has seemed a dark eternity. 
 
 Whose midnight gloom can never know a dawn. 
 Unless, perchance, dear heart, the Fates decree 
 
 That my vain hopes may be not all in vain. 
 That the as yet unknown future holds for me 
 
 The gladsome joy, to have you back again. 
 
 56 
 
liJben You Kissed me 
 
 When 3^ou kissed me, 
 A something, a vag'ne, sweet memory, 
 A vision of one I used to know 
 Came drifting out of the long ago^ — 
 When you kissed me. 
 
 It seemed to me, 
 
 From somewhere, a low, sweet melody, 
 An old love song that I used to know, 
 Came softly out of the long ago — 
 When you kissed me. 
 
 It brought to me 
 A feeling, a forgotten ecstacy, 
 A burst of sunshine out of the old. 
 From a heart I deemed as dead and cold — 
 When you kissed me. 
 
 It brought to me 
 
 A longing; I yearned once more to be 
 Back where the skies were soft and blue. 
 And all the world was for you, sweet you — 
 When you kissed me. 
 
 57 
 
There seemed to be 
 A sweet voice, whispering low to me, 
 Coming from somewhere out of the blue, 
 An old sweet dream that breathed of you- 
 When you kissed me. 
 
 It seemed to me 
 
 That some one, some one I could not see. 
 Trod lightly on a forgotten grave ; 
 But, oh ! what a feeling of peace it gave 
 When you kissed me.. 
 
 5S 
 
The messaQC 
 
 Did you hear the song that the robin sang 
 
 Just at the break of dawn? 
 Did you note how strong and clear it rang 
 
 From out there on the lawn? 
 Did you understand the joyous trill 
 That echoed over wood and hill 
 
 Singing the message sweet and clear, 
 
 ''The spring is here, the spring is here?" 
 
 Did you hear the chatter of the rill 
 
 As it broke from its icy bond. 
 And the soft south wind come over the hill 
 
 And ripple across the pond? 
 Did you catch the scent in the morning air, 
 A scent of something sweet and rare? 
 
 Don't you hear the message the little bees hum, 
 
 "The spring is come, the spring is come?" 
 
 Did you see where the wind blew the leaves aside 
 
 Down by the willow tree 
 Where a little blue violet was trying to hide 
 
 As it coyly whispered to me — 
 "The wintry winds and the snow have fled, 
 I think it safe to come out," it said. 
 
 "Indeed," sang the robin, "there's nothing to fear. 
 
 The spring is here, the spring is here." 
 
 59 
 
ye minds ffic 
 
 Ye minds me o' th' violet, 
 
 Your bonny een o' blue, 
 Sae saft an' seemin' kindly 
 
 Wi' sunglints flashin' through. 
 Ye minds me o' th' lily fair, 
 
 Your face sae sweet an v/hite, 
 Wha's radiance sae quickly turns 
 
 A' mirkness into light. 
 
 Ye minds me o' th' brier rose 
 
 Alang th' burnie brink, 
 For I can see reflected in 
 
 Your cheeks its saft warm pink. 
 But och ! that rose is treacherous 
 
 An' o' it you're a part, 
 For ye ha'e left a stingin' thorn 
 
 Wi'in a broken heart. 
 
 60 
 
61 
 
 The Boy You Used to Knoto 
 
 Do you 'member th^ boy you uster know, 
 
 That little barefoot kid. 
 Way back in th' days o' long ago — 
 
 Remember th' things he did? 
 Remember th' gam'es he uster play? 
 Hide 'n' coop 'n' runaway, 
 Stumpin' each other up in th' hay, 
 
 Wasn't it jest splendid? 
 
 Down t' th' river wasn't it fun 
 
 That little boy yo' knew, 
 Fishin' fer suckers along* the run, 
 
 Er paddlin' his canoe? 
 Do y' 'member th' merry shout an' laugh. 
 As he went scootin' along th' path 
 T' th' ol' deep hole, t' take his bath. 
 
 That other me an' you? 
 
 Jevver git kind o' a wistful wish 
 
 Fer th' little boy y' knew? 
 Would y' like t' git down by the dam an' fish, 
 
 Jest like he uster do? 
 Would, you like to ^et out in the roacl and play, 
 One ol' cat, er pullaway, 
 Er follow th' clown on circus day. 
 
 Like that little you o' you? 
 
I sometimes wish I could wipe away 
 
 Th' years I have left behin', 
 All but about elexeu say, 
 
 An' sort o' fall in line 
 With them other kids I uster know, 
 An' run an stumble an' stub my toe, 
 Jest like he uster — years ago, 
 That other me o' mine. 
 
 62 
 
3e$t 
 
 Jest to set down together 
 An' talk the matter o'er, 
 Jest ter jaw together 
 Like we used ter do of yore ; 
 Jest ter go fishin' together 
 An' drink a glass er two, 
 An' sing a song together — 
 Jest like we used ter do. 
 
 Jest ter be th' same ol' chums 
 
 Jest fer oncet er twicet, 
 
 Jest ter be the jolly bums 
 
 We were 'fore we got spliced ; 
 
 Jest ter be back in th' same ol' place 
 
 Jest like we used ter be, 
 
 Jest fer th' sake o' 'ol' times, Ace — 
 
 Jest only you an' me. 
 
 63 
 
lUbcn flutumn's Come 
 
 When Autumn's conic, an' leaves 
 
 Have turned tcr colors manifold, 
 An' th' fields are all resplendent 
 
 With their coats o' red an' gold, 
 Right there at th' point o' 
 
 The good ol' summer's end. 
 When th' cold ol' winter sort o' 
 
 Pokes her nose aroun' th' bend. 
 
 Frosty nights, an' hick'ry nuts 
 
 A-droppin' off th' trees, 
 An' a smell that's sweet an' woody 
 
 Sort o' minglin' with th' breeze, 
 Birds all packin' up an' 
 
 Fussin' roun' t' beat th' band, 
 An' on th' fly, when Autumn's come, 
 
 An' off fer Dixie land. 
 
 Woods all hushy like an' still, 
 
 Nary robin flyin'. 
 Jest th' leaves up over head 
 
 Sort o' softly sighin', 
 Mebby see a red squirrel 
 
 Go a-scootin' up a tree. 
 An' set up on a limb an' 
 
 Chatter soc'ble like t' me. 
 
 04 
 
Muskrats all a-hustlin', 
 
 Layin' up their fall supplies, 
 An' fox-squirrels mighty busy 
 
 Buildin' mansions in th' skies, 
 An' me likewise a-fig'rin' 
 
 Where I'm g*oin' ter make my hum 
 So that I'll be snug an' warm. 
 
 Like them, when Autumn's come. 
 
 65 
 
Dcaitie O 
 
 Ae day I wandered down a stream 
 
 An' on the slopin' grassy brink, 
 Where buddin' willows winiplin' dream, 
 
 I sat me down, awhile, to think. 
 An' a' the world seemed blythe an' glad 
 
 But aye my heart was weary o'. 
 An' a' my thoughts were drear an' sad 
 
 Frae longin' for my dearie o. 
 
 An' in the middle o' my care 
 
 I heard a foot step soundin' near. 
 An' glancin' u]) saw standing there 
 
 The l)onny lass I lo'e sae dear. 
 Then a' my sorrows quickly fled 
 
 An' a' the world was cheerie o', 
 An' aye my heart was blythe instead 
 
 Frae bein' wi' my dearie o'. 
 
 Her locks were like the raven's plume, 
 
 Her lips like cherries wat wi' dew, 
 An' aye I fear Fve met my doom 
 
 Frae her twa een sae brown an' true. 
 The bob-o-links went whislin' by 
 
 An' sang to us sae cheerie o', 
 An' ilky note an' ilky cry. 
 
 Seemed praises to my dearie o'. 
 
 66 
 
The robin redbreasts up above 
 
 Were perched upon the swingin' vine, 
 An' ilky ane sang o' their love 
 
 An' sweetly sae did I o' mine. 
 An' aye I never will forget 
 
 Tho' a' the world be dreary o', 
 Wi' pleasure I'll remember yet 
 
 The day I spent wi' dearie o'. 
 
 67 
 
Jin Epistle to 3amc$ lUbitcomb Riley 
 
 Yes — God bless you Riley, 
 
 That's jest what I say. 
 
 You've helped to make me "smiley," 
 
 But in a dififrunt way 
 
 Tlian what th' other feller wrote, 
 
 That I read in "Century's" book, 
 
 Fer you've taught me t' make note 
 
 An' make me see, an' look. 
 
 You've taught what th' flowers mean, 
 
 An' 'bout th' birds that sing, 
 
 You've taught me why th' fields are green,' 
 
 An' love, — an' every-thing. 
 
 ril haf ter tell ye on th' start 
 
 To understand me Riley, 
 
 That long before I read yer heart, 
 
 I wuz a sort o' "smiley" 
 
 But not th' kind that I am now — 
 
 I'll admit, an' I'm glad to, 
 
 Fer 'twas after you had showed me how, 
 
 I smiled because I had to. 
 
 An' you've done a heap to cheer me up 
 
 When gloomy thoughts were with me. 
 
 An' I wish that I could pay ye back 
 
 Th' happy ones you've give me. 
 
 I'd like to know ye better, sir, 
 
 If you will only let me, 
 
 Though if it isn't to yer wish 
 
 68 
 
O' course ye kin ferget me, 
 But I ask t' let me be yer friend 
 As you've been my friend, Riley, 
 I wait yer answer t' that end , 
 Yours truly, — H. D. Smiley. 
 
 69 
 
Im Jest a Boy 
 
 Tlicrc ain't no use o' talkin' 
 
 T' a man like mc, 
 An' tellin' nic o' what I am, 
 
 An' what 1 ought to 1)e, 
 An' the time that I'm a wasting-, 
 
 An' could otherwise employ, 
 Fer after all is said an' done 
 
 I'm jest a boy. 
 
 I ain't never had no wishin' 
 
 Fer to glorify my name, 
 N'er I ain't got no hankcrin' 
 
 Fer any worldly fame. 
 I'm satisfied jest as I be 
 
 With nothin' to annoy, 
 Wuss'n ])rol)'ly gittin' hungr}^ fer 
 
 I'm jest a boy. 
 
 I'll own I am twenty-six t' day 
 
 An' folks '11 Icll you I'm 
 A good fer nothin' feller 
 
 An' a loafin' all the time. 
 ])Ut I ain't no reputation 
 
 Fer them folks to destroy, 
 l^'er it happens, 1 ain't nothin' 
 
 IWit jest a boy. 
 
 70 
 
I don't envy them that's got 
 
 Their reputation made. 
 An's up there on th' hill of fame 
 
 A baskin' in th' shade. 
 The joys of wealth I've noticed 
 
 Sometimes has a bad alloy, 
 An' I reckon I'm contented 
 
 I'm jest a boy. 
 
 The medder's jest as green fer me, 
 
 The birds sing jest as clear 
 T'day, as they did yesterday, 
 
 Er way back fifteen year. 
 I'm glad t' get the little things 
 
 O' life, an' know the joy 
 O' rustic health, an' also that 
 
 I'm jest a boy. 
 
 71 
 
IDv 01' man 
 
 They's a' ol' man lives nex' t' us, 
 
 Wite over our back fence. 
 
 He's such a goody-good ol' man — 
 
 He gimme wunst fi' cents, 
 
 An' some days when he's workin', 
 
 In his garden patch I'll frow 
 
 A stone at him to scare him. 
 
 All 'ist in fun you know, 
 
 'Xen he'll look my way, 
 
 An' jump and say, 
 
 "Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 
 
 Y' better come over an' beg my pardon. 
 
 Just see what you've done t' my new garden, 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, look out." 
 
 He's got th' nices' garden patch, 
 
 All full of flowers an' things. 
 
 An' little beds o' pansies. 
 
 All planted round in rings. 
 
 An' wunst I climbed an' stealed, 
 
 (Did it 'ist in fun, y' know). 
 
 Up where he had his barrow wheeled, 
 
 An' tipped it over on his toe. 
 
 72 
 
'Nen he looked my way, 
 
 An' jump and say, 
 
 "Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 
 
 Y' better come over an' beg my pardon, 
 
 Just see what you've done t' my new garden. 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, look out." 
 
 One day they wuz a fun'ral. 
 
 In his house, nex' t' ours. 
 
 An' my ma cried, an' carried o'er 
 
 A big white bunch o' flowers, 
 
 An' I've been 'ist as lonesome 
 
 As could be, ever sence. 
 
 An' some days I'll go out, an' set. 
 
 An' wish, on our back fence, 
 
 'At he'd look my way. 
 
 An' jump and say, 
 
 "Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 
 
 Y' better come over an' beg my pardon. 
 
 Just see what you've done t' my new garden, 
 
 Hey there ! young feller, look out." 
 
 73 
 
(Xlaititiis Foit His Siocetbcant 
 
 When (Ic nii^ht'n'galc am singin' 
 An' do silv'ry moon am flingin', 
 
 Her beams erroun' dc trees; 
 
 When (le sparklin' dews am fallin" 
 
 An' de katydids am callin', 
 I'se waitin' fo' yo', Louise. 
 
 T'se waitin' in de shadder 
 
 ()1) de gum tree in de medder, 
 
 Dats rustlin' in de l)reeze ; 
 An' de oV owl am a hootin', 
 
 An' de 1)lack 1)at am a scootin,' 
 Ain' yo' gwine hurry uj), Louise? 
 
 Now I hear yo' voice a hummin', 
 An' I know yo' is a comin', 
 
 Des Hke de summer breeze ; 
 Now I see yo' come a ski]>pin' 
 
 An' a dancin' an' a trippin,' 
 JMighty glad yo' here, Louise. 
 
 74 
 
B Riddle 
 
 Little guess you how these lines, 
 
 Carelessly composed here, 
 
 Laud a maiden whom I know 
 
 Who reads her name reposed here. 
 
 From artless observation 'tis 
 
 Concealed beyond a doubt here ; 
 
 Yet a careful scrutiny. 
 
 Shall find it in about here. 
 
 Her rosebud lips and raven hair 
 
 And figure lithe and slender, 
 
 And the love-light of her eyes 
 
 Have dazed me by their splendor. 
 
 Her gentle way, regardless of 
 
 A person's reputation, 
 
 Her kind smile and her sweet young face, 
 
 They fill me with elation. 
 
 And so I've written here her name 
 
 And carefully I've rhymed it. 
 
 And so well it is concealed 
 
 I defy the world to find it. 
 
 75 
 
Life 
 
 The years will come and the years will go, 
 
 Soft zephers sigh, and chill winds blow. 
 
 Man shall be born, and man shall die, 
 
 As has been in all past history. 
 
 And during the intervening time, 
 
 Twixt birth and death, he'll drink and dine. 
 
 Go down to poverty, or up to wealth, 
 
 Have days of illness, and days of health, 
 
 He'll go into business, or work at a trade, 
 
 He'll fall in love with some sweet maid, 
 
 He'll woo to win, or he'll woo to lose. 
 
 It's a question of chance as every one knows. 
 
 He'll have a home and children and wife. 
 
 Or remain a bachelor all of his life. 
 
 If the former, he'll get a preliminary style 
 
 Of the place he'll land at after while. 
 
 Or if it's the latter, why then he'll think 
 
 That he's been slighted, and take to drink. 
 
 And so down the river of life he'll go 
 
 Riding the side where the chill winds blow. 
 
 Always jiushing the wrong canoe. 
 
 Over the joys that he thought he knew. 
 
 While the birds sang sweet and the zephers sighed 
 
 Over there on the opposite side. 
 
 liill made a fortune, Bob got a wife, 
 
 Joe stayed a bachelor all of his life. 
 
 70 
 
"Lucky cuss" each of them, each says so. 
 
 Bill to Bob and Bob to Joe, 
 
 While Joe the acme of luck, to Bob, 
 
 Bows his head with a broken sob. 
 
 Envies the luck of the other men, 
 
 And silently broods what might have been. 
 
 77 
 
UJhat De Use 
 
 What (Ic use to worry, wlion yo' ])ants wear 
 
 tliroui^ii, 
 or woman gwine to patch 'em, so dey jes' es good 
 
 cs new ; 
 What clc use ob frettin' when de fish won't bite, 
 Bound ter git a 'possom, when de moon shine 
 
 bright. 
 
 AMiat de use to worr}- 'bout de Trusts an' ring, 
 Ain' no Trust (lisi)utin' (Hs nigger's right to sing; 
 What de use ol) frettin' when de worhl go wrong, 
 Ef \'o' feel a I'il grumpy, jes' sing' a I'il song. 
 
 Dis world am full ob trouble ef yo' lookin' fo' it l)(\v, 
 Dut yo'll also find by lookin' clat she jest chuck ful 
 
 ob joy. 
 So what de use ob frettin' w hen }()' luck seem tough, 
 She gwine be all right bime bye, 'f yo' jest wail 
 
 long enough. 
 
 78 
 
my L'fl Tiny Gal 
 
 De roses sigh when she go by, 
 
 My Til Tiny gal, 
 An de daisies hoi' der heads up high, 
 
 My I'il Tiny gal, 
 De ol' sun stare when he see her hair 
 An' he say to hisself, "Well, I declare. 
 If dat ain't night a-right down dare," 
 
 My I'il Tiny g'al. 
 
 De souf wind stop when she come 'long. 
 
 My I'il Tiny gal, 
 De nig'ht'n'gale sing his sweetes' song. 
 
 My I'il Tiny gal. 
 When de ol' moon look, she so su'prise, 
 Say, "Dey ain't no use fo' de stars to rise, 
 Fo' de can't outshine dem sparklin' eyes," 
 
 My I'il Tiny g'al. 
 
 De sea waves play when she come dat way, 
 
 My I'il Tiny gal. 
 An' dey say she sweet as de summer day, 
 
 My I'il Tiny gal, 
 or Neptune he hoi' up his han' 
 '^n' he look at her an' say, "My Ian' ! 
 Ef dat ain't Venus on de san," 
 
 My I'll Tiny gal. 
 
 79 
 
Yo' Unc' Douglas' Gtteetln*$ 
 
 Wish yo' Merry Chris'mus 
 
 An' cr Happy New Yeah; 
 Jolly time a comin' 
 
 An' hits putty nearly heah. 
 ( )r Santy's shuah hikin 
 
 An' I know he on de way, 
 Cayse he call me np an' tol' me 
 
 On de phone de uddah day. 
 
 He say yo' needn' list'n 
 
 Fo' de sleigh bells eny mo'; 
 Nor ter heah de reindeah trom])in', 
 
 Cayse he disserpoint yo' sho'. 
 Want ter list'n fo' er whistle 
 
 An' de gratin' of er wheel, 
 Cayse he writ me dat he comin' 
 
 In er autermobeel. 
 
 He tol' me 'bout some presents 
 
 Dat's er gwine ter make yo' stare; 
 But I promised not ter tell hit, 
 
 So of coes' I doesn't dare ; 
 Tol' me 'bout some li'l gals. 
 
 An' bad bad li'l boys; 
 An' say, ef (ley don't done behave 
 
 Dey don't git eny toys. 
 
 80 
 
I'se out las' night er talkin' 
 
 To ol' Hoot Owl in de tree. 
 Who's er pus'nal frien' of Santy's 
 
 An' er pus'nal frien' of me. 
 An' he prognos'cate de weathah 
 
 Gwine to change some that-a-way, 
 So dat time dat Chris'mus git heah 
 
 We'se be ready fo' de sleigh. 
 
 An' I talk wif Mistah Raccoon, 
 
 Who 'tiz totin' of er load ; 
 An' he say dey heaps of turkeys 
 
 In de coops er long de road. 
 An' he tol' me 'bout some pullets 
 
 Dat 'uz lookin' mighty fine ; 
 So I reckon how dat somer 
 
 Dem dare pullets gwine be mine. 
 
 An' I talk wif Mistah Rabbit, 
 
 An' I talk wif ol' Jay Bird ; 
 
 An' dey tell me dat dis Chris'mus 
 
 Be de bigges' evah heard. 
 An' we all jines in t'gethah 
 
 Wif er ha'ty good cheah ; 
 An' we wish yo' Merry Chris'mus 
 
 An' er Happy New Yeah. 
 
 81 
 
Tbc 3a$on $u)amp niuskectci? 
 
 Wunst a city feller come t' our house t' board. 
 We live six miles from S]Mmkville, rig^lit up near 
 
 Jason's ford. 
 He said he needed country air an' country grub an' 
 
 stuff, 
 An' showed us what his doctor wrote t* certify th' 
 
 bluff. 
 
 A\'e ain't much room in our house, so ma told him 
 
 if he 
 AN'a'n't over much particler why, she'd have him 
 
 sleep with me. 
 He said he'd rather sleep alone, but then, o' course 
 
 if it 
 \\^iz goin' t' over-crowd us wdiy he wouldn't mind 
 
 a bit. 
 
 Th' fun begun that very night, most soon's we got 
 
 t' bed, 
 When a Jason swamp muskeeter come a-buzzin* 
 
 'round his head, 
 An' buzzed around' an' buzzed aroun' an' buzzed 
 
 aroun' until 
 That feller set right up in bed an' jest let out a yciI. 
 
 An' grabbed an' slapped, an' slapped an' grabbed, 
 
 an' grabbed agin, till I 
 Jest had t' git t' laffin' an' I laffed most fit t' die. 
 
 82 
 
An' then he jumped clean outer bed an' grabbed a 
 
 book an' he 
 Allowed he'd ketch that pesky thing an' smash it 
 
 up, b'gee. 
 
 An' then he lit out with his book an' slammed it 
 
 'ginst th' wall. 
 But that 'er dum muskeeter went a-buzzin' through 
 
 it all. 
 Then he grabbed th' bed sheet an' swished it up 
 
 an' down, 
 But that 'er blamed muskeeter jest went buzzin' 
 
 roun' an' roun'. 
 
 He smashed th' lamp an' chimney, th' fable an' him- 
 self, 
 
 An' a lot o' rickety-doodles that wuz a settin' on 
 th' shelf; 
 
 He aimed a swipe at nowhere, an' then he stopped 
 t' hear. 
 
 An' that gol-darn muskeeter 'ud be buzzin' in his 
 ear. 
 
 An' so he kept th' racket up fer purty nigh a hour, 
 Tryin' t' kill that dum muskeeter all ways 'twas in 
 
 his power. 
 Till finally he petered out, and sot down on th' 
 
 floor ; 
 Then that Jason swamp muskeeter went a buzzin' 
 
 out th' door. 
 
 83 
 
An' th' last we seed o' tlial air city feller wnz nex' 
 
 day 
 When' as soon's he'd finished breakfast he started 
 
 right away 
 An' went a pikin' down th' road, straight fer th' 
 
 city line, 
 With that Jason swamp miiskeeter a buzzin' 'long 
 
 behin'. 
 
 84 
 
Uncle lke^$ Sioim 
 
 See them young fellers splashin'? 
 
 S'pose they think their swimmin' now ; 
 Pshaw, I'd like to jest undress 
 
 And go an' show 'em how ; 
 But Liza says I musn't 
 
 'Cause (she says) I'm gettin' old ; 
 Pshaw — but, then, I kind o' guesr 
 
 The water's still too cold. 
 
 But jest wait a little longer 
 
 Till the water's warmer yet. 
 An' I'll show them young fellers 
 
 What swimmin' is, you bet ; 
 An' I don't care what Liza says 
 
 'Bout me a gittin' old — 
 I'd like to show them boys right now, 
 
 But — the water's too dum cold. 
 
 I've swum these waters man an' boy, 
 
 For more than forty year; 
 An' I know every stone an' stump 
 
 In this here river here. 
 An' that's all bosh what Liza says 
 
 'Bout me a gittin' old, 
 I ain't, an lemme see — why no. 
 
 This water ain't so cold. 
 
 85 
 
I) 'gosh, i'm i^oiiv to try it, 
 
 An' Liza she can jest 
 Jaw all she blame pleases, 
 
 Cause I guess that I know best. 
 Can't understand what makes her think 
 
 That I'm a gittin' old; 
 Jest cause my hair's a little thin, 
 
 No sign my feet are cold. 
 
 Ouch!! b-r-r-r ! — Oh, lawsy ! Wow! 
 
 Hey there, you fellers there, 
 Jest stop yer gol darn laughin' 
 
 An' help me out o' here. 
 B-r-r-r — by jumpin' jingo, but 
 
 That water's cussed cold — 
 — Guess my Liza knows her biz, 
 
 I guess I'm gittin' old. 
 
 86 
 
Bent 
 
 His name is Bert ; 
 Begrimed is his shirt, 
 
 And tattered his pants and coat, 
 And he wears a smile 
 Like a cankerous bile 
 
 As I've frequently taken note ; 
 He comes down the pike 
 With a kangaroo hike, 
 
 And a whistle that's always dry. 
 And that cankerous grin. 
 With the sides dented in. 
 
 And a moon struck gaze in his e3^e. 
 
 There's a frisky r'ar 
 To his greaser hair. 
 
 That never connects with the shears, 
 And the bloom of the rose 
 In his bibulous nose, 
 
 And a wigglety wag' to his ears ; 
 There's a rubbery curve, 
 And a sinuous swerve 
 
 Where his head and body meet. 
 And a curvature stoop. 
 And a far reaching snoop, 
 
 And a frivolous shake to his feet. 
 
 87 
 
He's never too late 
 
 To lii^ht out on a freight, 
 
 lie lra\els the roads for fair; 
 Me ean slumber and dream 
 On a bouncing break beam, 
 
 And plenty of soom to spare. 
 He has wonderful luck. 
 At 1)uinniing his chuck, 
 
 A back door he never will shirk. 
 Tho' he lives like a king. 
 It's a singular thing, 
 
 That he's never been caug;ht doing work. 
 
 When he ventures to sleep, 
 The elements leap 
 
 And dance to his thunderous roar ; 
 There was never a blow, 
 Or a volcano. 
 
 That could equal that terrible snore. 
 Yes, Jjert is his name. 
 And regarding the same, 
 
 When you hear it you want to watch out 
 Don't give him a chance 
 To connect with your pants, 
 
 Or he'll touch you, there's nary a doubt. 
 
 88 
 
01' Kit 
 
 Yes, sir, stranger, tell yo' she 
 
 'S th' smartest horse yo' ever see. 
 
 Once one year when crops was pore, 
 
 I was up agin it sure. 
 
 Meanest year I ever seen, 
 
 Didn't even raise a bean ; 
 
 Looked like poor house er th' ja-il, 
 
 So I held an auction sale. 
 
 Had the printer print some bills 
 All decorated 'roun' with frills, 
 An' advertised to sell our cow. 
 Four little pig's an' our ol' sow, 
 Ten head o' sheep, an' pair o' ox, 
 A set o' wheels, an' wagon box, 
 An' tho' I sort o' hated it. 
 Advertised to sell ol' kit. 
 
 I had owned her then purt nigh 
 Fifteen year, an' I thinks I 
 She's most worn out, an' ol, an' so 
 I guessed I'd better let her go. 
 She was a mighty good horse tho,' 
 Mebby jest a little slow. 
 But jest as smart as she could be, 
 An' I knowed her, an' she knowed me. 
 
 89 
 
Alius give a kind o' snort, 
 
 Soci'ble like, as if she sort 
 
 C)' said, "Good mornin' pard," when I'd 
 
 Come out t' hitch her fer a ride. 
 
 Knowin'st critter ever was. 
 
 Never had ter tie her, cause 
 
 She'd sure stand. An' didn't scare 
 
 O' steam cars, er seem t' care 
 
 A single whoop fer anything 
 
 That flew on wheels, er on the wing. 
 
 An' she knowed every word I'd say, 
 Fer instance, I'd say, **Kit, t' day 
 We'll drive out an' visit Jim, 
 An' spend the afternoon with him ; 
 An' I'll jest turn you out, my lass, 
 Ter get a chaw o' medder grass." 
 Then she'd prick her ears up straight 
 An' hike out like a man that's late 
 T' catch his train, an' never stop 
 'Til she'd got there, sure as pop. 
 
 But now she's gettin' ol', thinks I, 
 She'll be useless by an' bye. 
 An' tho' I hated like Sam Hill, 
 I put her down on that blame bill. 
 Tacked two bills up in the store, 
 
 90 
 
An' long th' road I tacked some more 
 On telegraph poles, so folks could tell 
 Jest what it was I had to sell. 
 An' t' make th' blam.e thing sure, 
 Tacked one up on our barn door. 
 
 Well, while I was tackin' that, 
 Something kind o' tipped my hat. 
 An' glancin' 'roun' I saw that Kit 
 Was lookin' sort o' hard at it. 
 Kit she couldn't read o' course, 
 (Couldn't 'spect it o' a horse.) 
 But, stranger, when she see that bill 
 She jest eyed it kind o' still, 
 Purt nigh a minute, an' then she 
 Turned aroun' an' looked at me. 
 
 'An' mister, I'm right here t' swear 
 On that look. Why, I declare. 
 No use o' talkin', it was jest 
 About the most reproachfullest 
 Tever saw. Why, I'll be blowed, 
 I ain't a doubt but what she knowed 
 Exactly jest what that bill read, 
 I felt so cheap I hung my head. 
 
 Looked at me — an' stranger, I 
 Jest couldn't look her in the eye. 
 An then she come an' rubbed her nose 
 All aroun' on my ol' clothes, 
 
 91 
 
An' sort o' wiggle wagged her ears, 
 An', by ginger, they was tears 
 In her old eyes, on that I'll swear, 
 1 know because I saw thcni there. 
 
 Made me feel so dog gone cheap. 
 When I seen that ol' horse w^eep, 
 Had ter weep myself, er swear, 
 An' I did, right then an' there ; 
 Jest let right out strong an' sw^orc 
 An' snatched that bill right off th' door. 
 Jumped on th' cart, an' said,' "Kit. les' 
 Go right straight back an' git tli' rest." 
 
 An', by gosh, when I said that 
 You'd oughter seen that ol' horse scat. 
 Down the road she went ker whiz — 
 Reckon how she knowed her biz, 
 Far when we come to that first bill 
 She jest stopped herself dead still, 
 Reached right out an' snatched it clean 
 Right off that pole as slick's a bean. 
 Did it with her teeth, by gosh, 
 ( >h, you kin laugh, it ain't no josh. 
 
 Yes, I held that auction sale, 
 Had ter do it sure, er fail ; 
 But you kin bet yer bottom bit 
 That T didn't sell ol' Kit ; 
 An' in spring time, er lli' fall. 
 
 92 
 
Summer, winter, snow an' all, ! 
 
 You kin see us drivin' 'roun' ^ 
 
 In th' country er th' town. 
 
 Satisfied as we kin be -j 
 
 That we are, ol' Kit an' me. \ 
 
 93 
 
rHy Choice 
 
 Sonic folks I know like city life, 
 With its ever lastin' noise an' strife; 
 An' its dust, an' over powerin' heat, 
 Some think tlr city can't be beat. 
 
 Jiut I'll take th' big north woods fer mine, 
 Along with th' deer an' th' porcupine. 
 An' th' ol' log shack, an' th' spruce bough bed, 
 An' th' ol' smoked rafters over head. 
 
 I'll follow th' trail at early dawn, 
 
 O' th' timid deer, an' th' spotted fawn. 
 
 Where th' shadows are deep, an' cool, an' rare, 
 
 With th' breath o' th' pines in th' mornin' air. 
 
 I'll follow th' line o' th' timbered shore, 
 
 Aroun' th' lake, where th' fish hawks soar, 
 
 Down by th' dam where th' beaver works, 
 
 An' th' shady pools where th' brook trout lurks. 
 
 An' in th' dusk I'll wander back 
 Ter th' shelterin' roof o' th' ol' log shack, 
 An' set by th' fire, an' smoke, an' dream, 
 An' listen again t' th' Bob cats scream. 
 
 U4 
 
Some folks say city life is best. 
 They say that there they are happiest; 
 Well, that's their choice, so let it be, 
 But th' big pine woods is th' place fer me. 
 
 95 
 
fls Wvs. UMqqs Says 
 
 ''Looks like everything in the world comes right 
 
 If we jes' wait long enough," 
 Altho' there's times in a feller's life 
 
 When things looks mighty tough; 
 But I guess what Mrs. Wiggs says is right, 
 
 Tho' I never thought before ; 
 But had figured it out through my sore foot 
 
 That the hull blamed world wuz sore. 
 
 But she seemed ter think when her trouble come, 
 
 That it ought ter be jes' so ; 
 (An I know some folks who growl at th' rain 
 
 That makes th' flowers grow ;) 
 An' I guess Mrs. Wiggs has got it right, 
 
 An' I guess I'll try a spell 
 C seein' th' heaven side o' things, 
 
 Instead o' seein' hell. 
 
 96 
 
The Optimist 
 
 When ills crops went wrong he didn't blame 
 
 The weather man for that; 
 
 When he lost eight cows in a poker game 
 
 He grinned and took his hat, 
 
 And said as he wandered out the door, 
 
 *'I'll buckl'e in and earn some more." 
 
 When a cyclone came along one day 
 
 Quite sudden like an' blew 
 
 The ol' farm house where he lived away 
 
 An' the barn an' hen coop too, 
 
 He says to me with a feeble grin, 
 
 "I guess I kin build 'em up agin." 
 
 An' I 'member once on a nice spring day 
 When everything seemed just right, 
 That his hogs all died of the cholera 
 And he buried 'em all that night ; 
 And he said as he gazed in the empty pen, 
 ''Well, it ain't so bad as it might a been." 
 
 And the day that the ol' bull histed him 
 
 Clean over the pasture lot. 
 
 An' broke his arm an' his good right lim' 
 
 An' we strapped him on a cot. 
 
 He smiled at me an' he says again, 
 
 ''Well, tain't so bad as it might a been." 
 
 97 
 
He never cried an' he never sighed 
 
 When his troubles came along, 
 
 He even laughed when his ol' nuile died 
 
 An' hummed a little song, 
 
 "An' he says to me quite cheerfully, 
 
 "Things ain't so bad as things might be." 
 
 On a rainy day he used to say, 
 
 "I ain't no room for sorrow, 
 
 Ef the sun don't shine like she ought today 
 
 She'll mebby shine tomorrow; 
 
 They ain't no use fer to fret an' stew 
 
 Jest count your blessin's — don't get blue." 
 
 98 
 
IDv Bosses 
 
 I've hit the trail in th' big woods, 
 
 An' I've camped in the big wood shacks, 
 An' I've took my turn at swingin' an ax 
 
 With th' rest o' th' lumber jacks. 
 An' my boss was a big, black, roarin' 
 
 An' cussin' French Canuck, 
 Who cussed his men with a right good will 
 
 An' cussed 'em agin fer luck. 
 
 I've followed th' Four X round up 
 
 From Wind River to Cheyenne ; 
 An' slept with th' sky fer a bed quilt 
 
 On th' ground o' th' Big Horn plain. 
 An' my boss was a red head Irisher, 
 
 With a voice like a locoed steer. 
 An' th' cuss o' him had a go an' vim 
 
 That would do you good to hear. 
 
 I've worked my shift in a copper drift. 
 
 At th' fortieth level down, 
 An' I've done my trick with a drill an' pick. 
 
 An' I've pushed th' tram car 'roun. 
 An' my boss was a big, fat Polock, 
 
 Who jawed in his native tongue, 
 An' th' cuss o' him made your eyes grow dim, 
 
 So pathetic and sweet it rung. 
 
 99 LOfC. 
 
An' th' man that's a tellings this story, 
 
 (Otherwise known as me), 
 Is at present employed a-working 
 
 In a Michigan factory. 
 An' my boss is a sweet, young critter, 
 
 A mild-eyed, little gazelle. 
 An' I ain't heard her swear since I've been there, 
 
 An' don't reckon I ever will. 
 
 Yes, I am th' ring-tailed snorter^, 
 
 Right out o' th' woolly west. 
 With a bowie knife down in my bootleg 
 
 An' a forty-four under my vQSt. 
 Me who's wolloped a bronco 
 
 From th' Bitter Creek range to Cal., 
 Is a workin' at civilized labor 
 
 An' being bossed by a gal. 
 
 100 
 
101 
 
 Cbc Ye$tcndav$ 
 
 Down in the vistas of far away, 
 
 Back in the vale of memory, 
 
 Where a little boy sings as a little boy plays, 
 
 Is the cherished realm of yesterdays. 
 
 Down by the mill, beside the brook, 
 With a tangled line and a fishing hook, 
 Barefoot and happy the little boy strays 
 Over th^ paths of yesterdays. 
 
 Over the meadow and through the wood. 
 To the mossy bank where the old tree stood. 
 The little boy splashes the silver sprays. 
 In the dreamy stream of yesterdays. 
 
 In an old straw hat that belonged to pap. 
 And his pants held up with an old skate strap. 
 The little boy shouts by the bonfire's blaze, 
 And revels in joys of yesterdays. 
 
 Rolling around in the orchard grass 
 The little boy watches the honeybees pass 
 From tree to tree, where the blossoming sprays 
 Scent the warm spring air of yesterdays. 
 
Oh, I long to go back to the yesterdays, 
 To the home I knew and the old pathways ; 
 Back where the sunlight softly plays 
 On the golden days, the yesterdays. 
 
 102 
 
lUateitmelon Time 
 
 De day was hot an' dusty 
 
 An' de ol' mule he was tia'd 
 An' up dar on de wagon 
 
 Uncle Douglas he puspiahed, 
 An' he kep' a grumblin', grumblin' 
 
 'Bout de hotness ob de day, 
 Say he don' know why de weathah 
 
 Keep a actin' dat a way. 
 
 Den he wipe his brow an' squinted 
 
 Down de roadway to de fence 
 On the Gunnel Johnson' prop'ty 
 
 Where de co'n fiel' it commence 
 An' see sompin' green an' shiny 
 
 Dar a hangin' on a vine, 
 An' he lift his head an' hollah 
 
 Dat its watah melon time. 
 
 An' he ain' do no mo' grumblin' 
 
 Des set right up an' sing 
 Lak de lark out in de medder 
 
 Er de robin in de spring. 
 Yassir, dat 'ere Uncle Douglas 
 
 Got ter feelin' mighty fine, 
 Cayse he know de time ob weathah 
 
 Was de watah melon time. 
 
 103 
 
An' dat night, when de moonlight 
 
 Sort o' sneak behin' er cloud, 
 Uncle Douglas go a creepin' 
 
 Lak he feared ter walk out loud, 
 Where dem melons was a baskin' 
 
 In de coolness ob de dew. 
 An' he grab a great big feller 
 
 Underneaf his a'm an' flew, 
 
 Den Uncle Douglas squat down 
 
 In de shadder ob de co'n 
 An' he ain' feel so happy 
 
 Sence de day dat he was bo'n, 
 An' he whisper ter hisse'f like 
 
 As he bite down to de rine, 
 "Dey ain' no time ob weathah 
 
 Lak de watah melon time." 
 
 m 
 
OCT 12 190 
 
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