Neghborly Poems and Dialect Sketches. Riley James Whitcomb

      Dad-burn ye! – Like to jest haul back

      A' old flat-hander, jest che-whack!

      And take you 'twixt the shoulders, say,

      Sometime you're lookin' t'other way! —

      Er, maybe whilse you're speakin' to

      A whole blame Courthouse-full o' 'thu-

      Syastic friends, I'd like to jest

      Come in-like and break up the nest

      Afore you hatched anuther cheer,

      And say: "'Ras, I can't stand hitched here

      All night – ner wouldn't ef I could! —

      But Little Bethel Neghborhood,

      You ust to live at, 's sent some word

      Fer you, ef ary chance occurred

      To git it to ye, – so ef you

      Kin stop, I'm waitin' fer ye to!"

      You're common, as I said afore —

      You're common, yit oncommon more. —

      You allus kindo' 'pear, to me,

      What all mankind had ort to be —

      Jest natchurl, and the more hurraws

      You git, the less you know the cause —

      Like as ef God Hisse'f stood by

      Where best on earth hain't half knee-high,

      And seein' like, and knowin' He

      'S the Only Grate Man really,

      You're jest content to size your hight

      With any feller-man's in sight. —

      And even then they's scrubs, like me,

      Feels stuck-up, in your company!

      Like now: – I want to go with you

      Plum out o' town a mile er two

      Clean past the Fair-ground whare's some hint

      O' pennyrile er peppermint,

      And bottom-lands, and timber thick

      Enugh to sorto' shade the crick!

      I want to see you – want to set

      Down somers, whare the grass hain't wet,

      And kindo' breathe you, like puore air —

      And taste o' your tobacker thare,

      And talk and chaw! Talk o' the birds

      We've knocked with cross-bows. – Afterwards

      Drop, mayby, into some dispute

      'Bout "pomgrannies," er cal'mus-root —

      And how they growed, and whare? – on tree

      Er vine? – Who's best boy-memory! —

      And wasn't it gingsang, insted

      O' cal'mus-root, growed like you said? —

      Er how to tell a coon-track from

      A mussrat's; – er how milksick come —

      Er ef cows brung it? – Er why now

      We never see no "muley" – cow —

      Ner "frizzly" – chicken – ner no "clay-

      Bank" mare – ner nothin' thataway! —

      And what's come o' the yellow-core

      Old wortermelons? – hain't no more. —

      Tomattusus, the same – all red-

      Uns nowadays – All past joys fled —

      Each and all jest gone k-whizz!

      Like our days o' childhood is!

      Dag-gone it, 'Ras! they hain't no friend,

      It 'pears-like, left to comperhend

      Sich things as these but you, and see

      How dratted sweet they air to me!

      But you, 'at's loved 'em allus, and

      Kin sort 'em out and understand

      'Em, same as the fine books you've read,

      And all fine thoughts you've writ, er said,

      Er worked out, through long nights o' rain,

      And doubts and fears, and hopes, again,

      As bright as morning when she broke, —

      You know a teardrop from a joke!

      And so, 'Ras Wilson, stop and shake

      A paw, fer old acquaintance sake!