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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c047452 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55042 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55042) diff --git a/old/55042-0.txt b/old/55042-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 459f2df..0000000 --- a/old/55042-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1693 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Tar-Heel Tales in Vernacular Verse, by John E. P. Doyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Tar-Heel Tales in Vernacular Verse - -Author: John E. P. Doyle - -Illustrator: Bonar - -Release Date: July 4, 2017 [EBook #55042] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAR-HEEL TALES IN VERNACULAR VERSE *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, Paul Marshall and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate - _italics_ in the original text. - Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. - Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved. - Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other - variations in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered. - In TOC, page no. for "Bob Munn of Cape Cod" was corrected - from 14 to 16. - - - - - Tar-Heel Tales IN VERNACULAR VERSE. - - [Illustration] - - BY _MAJOR JEP JOSLYNN_. - - NEW YORK: - - M. DOOLADY, 98 NASSAU STREET. - - 1873. - - “LITTLE BOOTS.” - - MY RERLIGION. - - THE BUZZIN’ BEES OF BERKS. - - BOB MUNN OF CAPE COD. - - - - - Tar-Heel Tales IN VERNACULAR VERSE. - - [Illustration] - - _BY MAJOR JEP JOSLYNN_. - - ILLUSTRATED BY BONAR. - - NEW YORK: - - M. DOOLADY, 98 Nassau Street. - - 1873. - - Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1873, - BY J. E. P. DOYLE, - In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - - - -AUTHOR’S PREFACE. - - -The author of this little volume, in presenting it for the amusement of -the reader, and the criticism of his co-laborers on the press, feels -it proper that he should state the circumstances of its production. -While serving as a staff officer with Sherman’s army in North Carolina, -often has he listened for hours to the recitals of adventures on the -part of the Tar-Heel refugees from the pineries, who crowded our camps -in search of food. Having studied with interest the habits and quaint -dialect of this poor, but honest class, the author has created Major -Jep Joslynn, and permitted him to weave some of these “Tales” into -verse. The incident described in “The Buzzin’ Bees of Berks” were -actually witnessed by him while on the advance of Hambright’s brigade -of the Fourteenth corps, assisting in the prevention of pillage. Two -or three of these Tales have been published in the press over Major -Joslynn’s signature. With these explanations the author will take a -back seat and request silence from pit to dome while the veracious -Tar-Heel entertains you with his Vernacular Verses. - - -HORACE GREELEY. - -BY JEP JOSLYNN. - - Hush! a nation’s pulse stands still! - Through it is flashed a thrill - Of genuine grief! - Grief for the Great and Good— - Grief for the one who stood - In strong relief, - And half a century braved - Opinion for the enslaved, - To find his name engraved - On Life’s clear leaf! - - A rustic child of ours, - Who in Green Mountain bowers - Was born to earth, - Attained a giant life - ’Mid scenes of bitter strife - That prov’d his worth! - And, dying, leaves behind him, - In hearts that have enshrined him - Affection’s links that bind him - To every hearth! - - Let the solemn church bell toll - For the passing of a soul - To peaceful rest: - Let tender tears be shed - For the illust’rous dead - Who’s hand we’ve prest! - For hearts to-day are riven— - A LIGHT went out at even - To glow anew in Heaven - Among the Blest! - - —New York Evening Telegram. - - To - - FREDERIC HUDSON, - - THE TALENTED JOURNALIST AND COURTEOUS GENTLEMAN, WHOSE - - FRATERNAL INTEREST IN YOUNG WRITERS, AND WHOSE - - CONSIDERATE AND PATIENT TREATMENT OF ALL WITH - - WHOM HE HAS HAD BUSINESS RELATIONS, HAVE - - ENDEARED HIM TO THEM, THIS VOLUME IS - - DEDICATED, BY HIS LATE SUBORDINATE AND SINCERE ADMIRER, - - The Author. - - [Illustration] - - - - - CONTENTS. - - PAGE. - THE CURSE OF PEDERGOGUE SCOTT 9 - BOB MUNN OF CAPE COD 16 - MY RERLIGION 24 - LITTLE BOOTS 32 - THE BUZZIN’ BEES OF BERKS 39 - THAT LITTLE BLACK PET OF OUR’N 49 - OLD TOM GIN 57 - THE SIGN OF JOE BALL 66 - - - ILLUSTRATIONS. - - PLANTING THE THISTLES 13 - BOB MUNN’S TRANSFIGURATION 21 - DEACON SPARLING’S DEVOTION 26 - THE TAR HEEL’S RETURN 35 - A MULE’S BAPTISM 46 - JONAH’S LANDLORD 50 - -[Illustration] - - -THE CURSE OF PEDERGOGUE SCOTT. - - That’s a question I don’t like ter speak of: - How these pesky thistles come here; - But, boys, if ye will listen attentervely, - I will breathe a strenge tale in yer ear. - - But afore I bergin I would warn ye, - Ye may fix yer faces ter blush; - So jist let thar be silence all around - And I’ll spin the yarn with a rush. - - Ha! ha! ha! I larf when I think of it— - The days when a youngster I sat - On a rough pine bench in the lorg school house, - And din’d orf the rim of my hat! - - The other boys war bigger than I war, - And studied thar lesson right well, - While I ermus’d myself as I wish’d ter - In quar tricks on which I’ll not dwell. - - I war ter young ter learn my letters,— - They let me ’tend school for all that; - And then when I run short of ermusement - I jerk’d at the tail of the cat! - - As I increas’d in years and mischief, - Sich as hazin’ our neighbor’s pig, - Pourin’ ink on the floor, or applyin’ - Powder’d chalk ter the master’s wig— - - Richard Scott—that war the pedergogue’s name— - Declar’d in wrath he’d be killin’ - Me, if I did not be quiet and sit - Bertween ter gals—I war willin’! - - Young as I war I lik’d that ye may swar - On the hilts of yer bowie knives; - And though but eight years I bergun ter sigh - For a plurality of wives! - - Now, Tip Tracey, ye may smile over thar - At the picter I’ve painted you; - But that gal-punershment of Richard Scott - War a pleasure ter them gals, too! - - By-an’-by I had master’d my letters, - And bergun on my _b i bi’s_; - From that I prergress’d to somethin’ better— - Admirin’ my companions’ eyes. - - Nearly every day I got the ferule - Jist for winkin’ at Sue Minals; - But very soon I had so far prergress’d - I war plighted ter sev’ral gals! - - I had not been ter school quite a twelvemonth - When I’d whal’d each boy in the class, - Kiss’d and hugg’d every gal, eaten Scott’s lunch, - And ten rivals had sent ter grass! - - I put toads in Scott’s pockets, and dead mice - Scatter’d everywhar in his desk, - Till he froth’d at the mouth in his madness, - And cuss’d me for a little pest. - - All this tuk place over in Canada, - Whar my gov’ner had gone ter preach - The Gospel of Jesus ter them sinners, - As successor ter Elder Beech. - - But don’t tire at th’ length of my story: - I’m drawin’ erlong ter the close, - Whar I gather’d the seeds that have blarsted, - And fill’d a whole nation with woes. - -[Illustration] - - One day when I’d been worse than usual,— - Put snuff in the master’s whistle— - _Old Scott tuk me out berhind the rear wall, - And sot me down on a thistle!_ - - An hour and a half he held me thar, - While the barbs pen’trated the skin! - Havin’ planted the crop, the pedergogue, - With my trousers harrer’d it in! - - That harrerin’ event I can’t forget, - For it fairly set me rantin’: - I wood not car’d had the agricult’rist - Chosen higher soil ter plant in! - - But that war cruel, and for months I felt - Them bull thistle seeds takin’ root, - And creepin’ about in the tender flesh - From hat crown ter toe of my boot. - - After that I went back on old Dick Scott, - And lit out for York State ye bet; - But each Spring I war sowin’ the thistles, - No rest anywhar could I get. - - I have toted them thistles all over, - And planted ’em in every field, - Whar I’ve halted ter rest; but dog on it! - Thar seems a ter bounterful yield! - - Now, neighbors, that is a right true story - I’ve told ye, and is it not queer - That I cannot get shut of ’em? That is - How Canada thistles reached here! - - So whenever ye cut down yer thistles - Don’t cuss me ter strong. May I rot - In a roadside ditch if I can help it! - _They are the curse of Richard Scott!_ - -[Illustration] - - -BOB MUNN OF CAPE COD. - - I berlieve it’s cornceeded on all sides - That of all the cute bipeds made - Since the world war created, the Yankee - Allers gets the best in a trade! - - It’s a boast that no race can match ’em - In expedients sure ter win: - And all others must get up right early - If they would n’t be taken in! - - As a proof of this ere declaration - They tell of one up at Cape Cod, - Who’s so all-fir’d smart he endeavor’d - Ter play a trump kerd at his God! - - He’s a fisherman by occerpation, - Is this feller they call Bob Munn; - And ter dry his fish he ask’d _mandamus_ - Ter sercure more light from the sun! - - The court would not listen ter the motion, - But this action did not appall: - He fix’d up a merchine ter uterlize - The rerfulgent rays of old Sol. - - With powerful glasses he center’d - The rays on his cargoes of cod, - And chuckl’d right smart at his success - In stealin’ the smiles of his God! - - For a time his merchine work’d ter a charm, - And his sackerlege war endur’d; - While his rivals in trade war astonish’d - At the many quintals he cur’d. - - But Bob Munn, he grew bold in his averice, - And the splendid march he had stole - Upon his Creator and his rivals, - E’en at the expense of his soul. - - He had read in the Scripters of Lot’s wife - Who ter salt war chang’d in a night, - As a punershment for diserbedience - And exercizin’ wimin’s right— - - (A right ter pry inter other’s affa’rs - By evesdroppin’ if she’s inclin’d, - For which each one of ’em should be treated - As Lot’s mistress what look’d berhind.) - - But, endin’ he aposterphe, I must - Return ter the exploits of Munn, - Who ignor’d the bounty of Jerhover, - And corntiner’d ter steal the sun! - - The story of Lot’s wife impress’d him - With a more avericious wish— - The diskivery of arter-fish-al means - For ter salt his catches of fish. - - On the shores of Cape Cod in them days - Many old maids sigh’d alone - For the lips of a man ter caress ’em, - And the means ter sercure a home. - - They had been doom’d ter sore diserpointment, - The girlish bloom had diserpear’d, - Leavin’ a shad-er of thar lost beauty - On the features so dry and sear’d. - - Bob Munn, he long ponder’d on the subject - Of testin’ that ere recerpe, - What work’d ter a charm at old Gomorrer, - And set a poor hen-peck’d man free! - - God had smil’d upon his undertakin’s, - And he felt he might tempt him still, - With a more ingenious expererment, - Ter bring a fresh grist ter his mill. - - Then he sent out many invertations— - Corlected the maids at his board, - And while they war gossippin’ o’er thar tea - In his chamber he ask’d the Lord— - - Ter merakerlously chenge ’em ter salt - The cheaper ter cure his fresh cod; - Then in faith he erose from his marrers, - And his sinful tamp’rin’ with God! - - Now Bob Munn in his folly expected - On rejinin’ his guests ter find - The work he’d mapped out for the Master, - Perform’d by His Infernite mind. - -[Illustration] - - But not so. On reachin’ the tea-drinkers, - Whar he trusted ter git his wish, - No pillars of salt war thar; but _harf of - Munn’s carcass war cheng’d ter a fish_! - - Bob Munn soon diskiver’d it war wrongful, - And, chagrin’d tuk ter the water: - Becomin’ an amphibious anermal, - The first mermaid war his daughter. - - Two centuries have pars’d away since then; - The mermaids have multerplied, - And, old mariners say, it all comes from - Lovin’ fish premerturely dri’d! - - And, although I won’t vouch for it, they say - This is why the Yankees like cod, - Car’fully season’d, and salted and cur’d - By the means pervided by God. - - BUT THE MORAL—ye see it war sinful - Ter tempt the Almighty ter fast! - And this story will show ye how _He got_ - _The best of that Yankee at last_! - - Whenever ye hear tell of a mermaid - Be warn’d by the sin of poor Bob, - Who attempted ter stock the kerds upon - His Maker, but—botch’d the job! - -[Illustration] - - -MY RERLIGION. - - - I do not gamble much on Rerligion, - Nor show a sanctermonious look - Down here under my hat when they mention - The Bible—that spiritu’l book— - - What’s a guide-board ter every stray traveler - In the pathway leadin’ ter God; - I do not clasp my hands in dervotion, - And at the church minister nod,— - - Extollin’ his favorite utterances; - Nor jine in the fervent “Amen,” - That the folks in the meetin’ may think me - One of them most pious laymen. - - Nor go down on my marrers durin’ pr’ar, - Raise my eyes ter Heaven and cry - Ter God ter pour out His Holy Spirit, - And bless me with grace from on High! - - In meetin’ I do not yell out “Glory!” - “Bless the Lord who died for sinners!” - “Come down, dear Jesus; I’ll clasp ye right here!” - Nor ’nvite the parson ter dinners. - - I’ve sarch’d from Gen’ses ter Reverlation - For a precerdent, but I can’t - Find that Christ and His Erpostles have spent - The Sabbath in boisterous rant! - - The knees of my Sabbath mornin’ trousers - May not show same ermount of war’ - As those of Deacon Horatio Sparling, - Who’s worn holes in his’n at pra’r. - -[Illustration] - - _I may not show the white of my eyes, like - The Deacon who looks for rerward - For countin’ the number of the rarfters, - When they pars the cup of the Lord!_ - - I am not in the habit of tellin’ - Sinners they’ll be left in the lurch, - In the last great day when Jerhover comes, - If thar not members of the church! - - Or skeerin’ ’em with brimstone and fire, - And the vengeance of thar Maker, - If they turn thar backs on the Pascal Lamb, - And fail ter be a pertaker! - - I do not prerclaim ter all my neighbors - Who’ve not bow’d down in corntrition - And jin’d the meetin’, that they’ve cartenly - A through ticket ter perdition! - - That when the Lord shall come in His glory, - If thar not as pure as snow, - He will hurl His hot bolts of wrath at ’em, - And tell ’em ter git up and go! - - That when the ran’som’d have enter’d in, - With the Lord ter thar final rest - In Heaven, and have put on the white robes - Emblermatical of the Blest— - - The guilty sinner will be shunted orf - Ter lakes of sul-furious fires - Whar murderers, burgulars and drunkards - Pursue thar unlicens’d desires. - - It is true I do not wrench from the poor - Part of the proceeds of thar sweat, - That my name may look large on subscriptions, - And that I may complerments get! - - And be known as a great pherlanterpist - When they pars the corlection plate, - _That receives money wrung from a brother, - Or filch’d from his orphan’s erstate_! - - O, no! I will freely own up ter it: - This sort of Rerligion don’t meet - My views of what’s right—what Jesus rerquires - Of all what come near ter His seat. - - My idea of Christianity - Is of quite a different type, - And all them supercillious ranters - Who think for the Harvest thar ripe, - - That, through thar pra’r and thar false prerfession, - They have been cleans’d of all thar sin, - Will find, when they apply for admission, - They have a slim chance ter get in! - - My Rerligion is not a prerfession - That “I am holier than thou!” - That a man can not serve his Creator - If he don’t make a saintly bow! - - The follerers of the Blessed Jesus, - Who war cradl’d in a menger, - Will strive ter love thar neighbor as themselves, - And gladden the lonely strenger— - - With kindnesses what go home ter the heart - In hour of his greatest need, - And act the part of the Sermaritan, - Of whom we all derlight ter read. - - I may be a sinner, and I doubt not - Have done heaps of things that war wrong; - But I love the example of the Lord, - And in secret pour out in song— - - My acknolergements for His great bounty; - And I strive ter keep His commands, - What war written on tablets by Moses, - When Jerhover guided his hands! - - _In them, Commandments ye get the essence - Of the Truth as given ter man; - And if a poor sinner lives up ter ’em, - And labors the best that he can— - No matter if he is out of the church, - Whar the wicked ones are cryin’ - For mercy! He’ll not be with the Deacon - Blubb’rin’ at the gates of Zion!_ - -[Illustration] - - -LITTLE BOOTS. - - Wal, neighbor, ye have got me right sure - When ye put a question like that: - The age of my youngster—“Little Boots,” - So frolicksome, funny and fat? - - The year and the day he war cradl’d - By the nurse what waited about; - And stood watch over Polly jist thar, - And heer’d his first inferntile shout? - - He’s a brilliant pearl in our cabin— - Is “Little Boots”—that’s cartenly true: - But durn me if I know he _war born_! - Maybe—like Miss Topsey—he grew! - - Come, strenger; bring yer cheer ter the fire. - Here’s some juice of the grape. Maybe - Ye’ll not stand upon manners jist now, - For I’ve no great larnin’, ye see. - - So I’ll tell ye the story of “Boots”— - Dog on’d strenge as ’t may seem ter _you_;— - But may my ha’r be cheng’d ter black snakes - If it is not Scripterly true! - - Ye see, we come down ter Car’lina - Five years ago, comin’ next Fall,— - Polly and me, and our setter dorg: - Without a mule or beast ter haul. - - Here I knock’d up a little cabin, - And skeer’d up a nigger or so, - At odd times ter jine in the plantin’, - And a startin’ the crop ter grow! - - Wal, for a time we prosper’d right smart— - Long afore “Little Boots” war born— - But we fretted in vain for a somethin’, - Though harvestin’ cotton and corn. - - But the drought spil’d the crops, and one day— - Leavin’ Polly ter boss the help— - I kissed her good bye, and dug out - Ter rough it a while by myself! - - Three years I work’d hard in the gold mines— - ’Way out in the mountains, ye see, - Whar a feller don’t have sich comforts - As a wife and a boy on the knee! - - Wal, at last I grew rather homesick, - And, ’thout writin’ Polly a word, - I ti’d up my kit for a journey, - And—slop’d for the home I prerferr’d? - -[Illustration] - - Forty days I war comin’ ter Clark’s: - A week brought me here ter the door, - _When I peek’d through a hole in the wall:_ - _“Little Boots” war squat on the floor_! - - The supper war spread on the table, - And Polly war pourin’ the tea - For Tom Smart, who had dropp’d in jist then - Ter hear if she’d got word from me. - - Now, Tom Smart war an old friend of our’n, - Who had shown much friendly corncern - In Polly and me, and, heaps of times, - Had render’d a neighborly turn! - - But, ter come ter the pint; I cornfess, - I chuck’d my rerligion erside! - And when they decla’r’d this boy war mine, - I cussed ’em, and told ’em they lied! - - For, strenger, I’d been away three years - From Polly and home, yet, forsooth, - The youngster they tried ter palm on me, - Had only jist cut his first tooth! - - But Polly, she kiss’d me so kind-like, - And prertested that she had been true, - That I tuk “Little Boots” ter my arms,— - Why, strenger, what else could I do? - - Since then I’ve been thinkin’ it over: - How this youngster chanc’d inter life,— - Durn me, if I don’t fear it’s the fault - Of Tom Smart and Polly, my wife! - - I don’t like ter suspicion my Polly - Who’s jist now appearin’ in view; - But, somehow, I don’t think it’s nat’ral - That our “Boots” should come thus. Do you? - - However, I’ll not fret erbout it: - Say nothin’; my wife’s at the door: - But one thing take note on:—_We’re happy_, - And—Tom Smart don’t come here no more! - - Now that is the whole histry of “Boots,” - A plaguey quar case. It’s not clear! - How this boy can be mine I can’t guess, - Or how in the world he reach’d here! - - But he’s Polly’s, that’s carten and sure, - And I admit him inte my heart, - Although he bars a strikin’ rersemblance - Ter that Tar-heel known as Tom Smart! - -[Illustration] - - -THE BUZZIN’ BEES OF BERKS. - - Boys, ye ask me ter spin ye a story - Of adventer by flood or field, - Or stand for licker ter bits at the bar,— - Ter the former, of course, I’ll yield; - For I’m rather short of greenbacks jist now, - Havin’ been out of work some time. - So, hear goes for a yarn, but ye must not - Make sport of my effort at rhyme— - - For in youth I had no eddercation, - ’Cept crumbs pick’d up by the way, - A scratchin’ figgers on the old school house - Of our pedergogue, Milton Gray. - Of course, ye know I war one of them chaps - What with Sherman march’d ter the sea, - From Atlanter, the stronghold we’d captur’d, - Ter the forts down on the ’Gechee. - - It war in Nervember we burn’d the place: - On the seventeenth we cut loose - From our base of surplies, and started orf - Ter exercute Sherman’s _ruse_, - That he war playin’ on Hood, the rebel, - Who’d unkiver’d his flanks ter soon, - For he left the way cl’ar for us ter raid - Ter Servanner or ter the moon! - - It war on that march the ervent tuk place - Of which I am goin’ ter tell, - Of how I ran inter a nest ef bees, - And thar got a foretaste of hell! - On the sixth day out we had got well down - In Berks county, n’ar the borders, - And on that ere raid, ye may bet yer pile, - We did not car’ much for orders! - - But each man dug out upon his own hook, - And rush’d for the front and plunder: - N’arly all of ’em got thar full of it, - But some of the boys went under; - For, ye see, thar war stray rebels erbout, - Who would swing ’em up by the necks, - When they cetch’d ’em totin’ erway the grub— - And hundreds parsed in thar checks! - - In them days I war not at all skeery— - Impressin’ a mule, I lit out - For the front, whar the bummers war raidin’ - And scourin’ the country erbout— - Stealin’ chickens, or killin’ hogs by day, - (Or goin’ through a trunk, perchance;) - Then at night they would camp for ter eat ’em, - With pickets thrown out in advance. - - They would coral thar mules in the forest, - Unsling knapsacks and build a fire, - Of pine logs, dry knots, or rails from the farms; - Then, chuck full of pork, they’d rertire - Ter slumbers disturb’d by the dyin’ squeals - Of swine they had slaughter’d for tea, - ’Til they thought the devils had come back from - Those Jesus druv inter the sea! - - As I have told ye, I jin’d the bummers - With my mule, my gun and canteen, - And the days that I roam’d about with ’em - War the jolliest I have seen; - But as we pars’d out of Berks one mornin’, - Far erhead of the “acorn” corps, - We soon diskiver’d a fine old homestead, - And a fair young gal in the door. - - Now while I did not do any stealin’, - And paid cash for all I seized, - If thar’s one thing I love it is wimin, - And, if thar pretty, I am pleas’d; - And when I saw more than a dozen bee hives - Lercated right thar in the yerd, - And the boys goin’ quickly terwards ’em, - I felt that it war mighty hard. - - I spurr’d up my mule, and then prertested - Not one should be tak’n from thar; - But the fellers jist snickered right out, - And told me ter go comb my ha’r— - And dry up, for they would have them hives - If they had ter eat bees berside, - And if I did not like it I could jist - Crawl out of my pesky old hide. - - Objections war no use erbout them days; - And, like a cornsumate old fool, - I drew rein at the gate ef the house, and - Watch’d ’em from the back of my mule. - Then them soldiers made a sortie on the bees - With thar ponchos, and tuk ’em quick - Ter the stream near by whar they drowned them, - And lifted the hives from the creek. - - While this war doin’ I sat on that mule, - Till Dick Mullens upset a hive, - And a swarm of mad bees came tearin’ out, - And, soarin’ around, made a dive - Right squar for my mule; they lit on his flanks, - And his neck, his ears and back:— - He rear’d and snorted, threw his head in air, - Then quickly tuk a le’ard tack! - - And erway on a fearful race he broke - Over fences, lorgs, ditches and rocks, - Headin’ for the water under the hill— - He near shook me out of my socks! - On his break-neck race for that brook berlow - It war needless ter pull on the rein, - For that ugly mule war dead set upon - Gittin’ rid of his bitin’ pain! - - With me the siteration war quite bad— - That mule’s hide war thicker than mine; - And when they lit on me I fit a while: - Then foller’d the mule’s bee line! - We reach’d the creek—ye may not berlieve it— - But that mule went down on his knees - In that ere stream, and roll’d over on me, - Jist ter rid himself of the bees! - -[Illustration] - - The muddy water war full four feet deep, - And I came quite n’ar bein’ drown’d, - _As with the old mule I battl’d thar, - With the bees what war buzzin’ ’round_! - I shall never forget that frisky brute, - What flounder’d erbout and shook - Them ere buzzin’ insects from orf his ears, - And danced like mad in the brook,— - - One minute he lay flat upon his back— - _The next balanced, on his fores,_ - _With his tail stuck out, and kickin’ like mad,_ - _As the bees fell on him by scores_! - Wal, while this battle war ergoin’ on - ’Twixt the bees and the valiant mule, - I had a chance ter crawl up ter the bank— - Don’t say that my action war cru’l— - - For the critter war much better prepar’d - With his tail ter banish his foes, - While I had not a durn’d thing erbout me - Ter aid him the battle ter close. - I had had quite ernough of that skirmish, - And erway up the hill I run - As quickly as my shanks would carry me, - In sarch of my knapsack and gun. - - When I had found them I war satersfied, - And did not rernew the ertack - On them wild bees; but, boys, I’m not carten - _But that mule still lies on his back - Erway down thar in Berks county, fightin’ - The dercendents of them mad bees - What that day swarm’d out of that broken hive! - That’s the yarn!_—Who’s treat is it, please? - -[Illustration] - - -THAT LITTLE BLACK PET OF OUR’N. - - Elder, quite a good story is that - Ye read from the Bible ter-day, - Of how that truant, surnam’d Jonah, - Succeeded in findin’ his way - Ter the mouth of that erbligin’ whale, - What tuk him in out of the wet, - And entertain’d him three days and nights, - Whar thar’s free erpartments ter let! - - ’Pears ter me, that whale war kind-hearted - Ter render sich an act; I’m sure - Most lan’lords would jist tell him ter git - Mighty quick away from thar door— - If he’d not the spondulicks ter pay - For his meals, his washin’ and bed; - But this generous whale surplied all, - And never tax’d Jonah a red! - -[Illustration] - - Do ye think ye could find a lan’lord - In these days as kind as that whale, - _What opened his mouth and ax’d him in - When the sea war runnin’ a gale_! - I guess ye’d look a long while, Elder, - Ter find one in this ere big State, - Who would not a cuss’d right smart at him, - And left Mr. J. ter his fate. - - Elder, I’ve been thinkin’ it over, - And, dog on it! I cannot see - How that story can be at all true; - But as _you_ say so, it must be: - For ye teech us ter berlieve each word - What is writ for our edderfecation, - Ter turn poor sinners ter Jesus Christ, - And rescue ’em from damnation! - - I’ll take the yarn, as the whale tuk in - Mr. Jonah, without any doubt; - But, years ago, an ervent tuk place, - What I will tell ye all erbout— - And if ye don’t say, it matches your’n - My name is not Pherlander Lee: - It tuk place when I war rarftin’ lorgs, - Years ago, upon the Suanee,— - - With Ashley Cole, Will Starks and Ed. Flynn, - And a dozen or more, maybe, - Of lumbermen, who work’d all day at - Ermanuel labor with me. - We anchor’d our rarft n’ar Cedar Keys, - And squatted down berside the stream - One evenin’, and after supper dropp’d orf - Ter slumber, ter rest and dream— - - Of wives and children we’d left erbove - In the pineries days berfore; - And now, worn out with lerborious toil, - We quickly bergan for ter snore. - Ter keep the flies orf we built a fire, - And Fanny, my little black dorg, - That I thought a mighty sight of, sir, - Doubl’d up ter snooze on a lorg— - - A few yards from the fire. A sharp yelp - Woke me from my dreams, and, springin’ - Right out of my cot, I hurried orf - Whar the cries of my Fanny war ringin’ - On the air, as an allergater - In his jaws had cru’lly caught her, - And war makin’ right orf with my pet, - Ter his young ’ns in the water! - - Seizin’ a club, I feller’d right fast - After the stealthy, thievin’ brute; - But the night war dark, and the critter - Successfully baffled pursuit! - My dorg war gone: ’twar no use frettin’ - O’er raid of that allergater, - What had sneak’d my pet from orf that lorg, - And, I doubted not, had ate her! - - She did not come back ter tell the tale - Of how she had been sneak’d away, - And I mourn’d her as lost ter me forever, - And—had not a word ter say. - But, Elder, that war n’t the last I saw - Of that little black pet of our’n, - For two months later, when we’d come down - Agin, and one day war scourin’— - - Erbout for game, in a swamp n’ar by - The slimy thief I once more saw! - Liftin’ my rifle, I lodg’d a ball - Right under his uplifted jaw. - In them days I war reckon’d a shot, - And, ye may bet, the critter died: - Then over on his back we turn’d him, - And bergun ter rermove his hide. - - While this war doin’ I heer’d a bark - Of a dorg, what appear’d quite near! - ’Twar so much like Fanny’s, with my sleeve - I—jist brush’d from my cheek a tear! - Wal, when we had cut the varment open— - Ye won’t berlieve it, but it’s true - As any story I’ve ever told, - My Fanny jump’d squar inter view! - - Then, arter her came three pretty purps— - Exact picters of thar mother! - We ply’d our knives agin in the flesh, - And then unkiver’d another! - Ye see, I had rerkiver’d my pet, - What brought back a numerous crop - Of young dogs; now if I hain’t match’d ye, - Why, Elder, I’ll gen’rously stop! - - But, wait a bit; a few more inches - We come ter somethin’ kinder hard, - That our sharpest blades would not go through, - And then old Samuel Bard - Pick’d up a hatchet and whack’d erway - _Until he came ter some spruce lorgs,_ - _That, bein’ unkiver’d, dersplay’d ter view_ - _The kennel of them little dorgs_! - -[Illustration] - - -OLD TOM GIN. - - A “smile” is it, Hank Rowland, - Ye invite me ter take, - At the bar of Pete Moody, - Jist for the old time sake, - And ter keep me erwake? - A smile of th’ distillation - Of hell that is call’d Gin,— - The nectar of the devils! - The vile parent of sin, - What many waller in? - - I don’t like ter ’pear ’fensive, - My friend Hank, but jist think - The temptation ye set me - When ye ax me ter drink! - No, no! from it I shrink! - Time war when a poor toper - I reel’d erbout the place, - A wretched victim of rum, - That so many embrace - Ter thar lastin’ disgrace! - - Hank, I’ll tell ye a story - What’s call’d ter my mind - When I come any whar n’ar - This great curse of mankind - With which stomachs are lin’d! - It makes me blush for the past, - The ’nebriate I’ve been, - When I think of the enemy— - The inciter ter sin— - They have christen’d “Tom Gin.” - - When I war marri’d, Hank Rowland, - A likelier young chap - Ye couldn’t find anywhar - This side Cumberland Gap, - For I tuk no “night cap.” - My wife, she war a Christian, - And a true wife war she; - And God rain’d down His blessin’s - On Malinder and me, - With a hand that war free. - - She bore me three fine children— - Two fair gals and a boy— - Whose soft chirrupin’ voices - Fill’d the cabin with joy - And love without erloy. - When the honeymoon pars’d - And love seem’d ter grow cold, - I stray’d down ter the tavern,— - Thar squander’d my gold, - And nerglected the fold— - - Whar my sunny-ha’r’d treasurs - Gather’d ’bout my wife’s side, - As she teech’d ’em of the Lord - Who on Calvary died, - And for orphans pervide. - As she told them of Heaven, - And repeated that pra’r - Of the Sevior of the world— - So erquented with car’— - They never saw me thar! - - Hank Rowland, I’m ershem’d - Ter admit it; but, still, - It may do another good - Ter warn him of what’ll kill, - And I swow that I will; - For, ye see, thar is many - Jist like me ’round here - Turnin’ erway from thar homes - When the smiles diserpear, - ’Cause thar wedded ter beer! - - Wal, down here ter the tavern, - As a matter of course - I found many good fellers - Who’d not any rermorse, - And did not seem advarse - Ter a toddy or a smoke, - A yarn or a story, - Of Ingen fights on the Plains, - And conflicts quite gory, - In sarch of mere glory. - - Hank, them times war attractive, - And I drank like the rest; - As months pars’d it grew on me, - Till I swigg’d with the best— - Pour’d it down with a zest. - Then reelin’ home late at night - The little ones would creep - Erway ter Merlinder’s room - With thar mother ter weep - In vain effort ter sleep! - - As years pars’d I grew keerless— - My farm went ter the duce— - And I hurl’d at my treasures— - Thinkin’ I had excuse— - Vile curses and erbuse! - One night I went home much later - And prepar’d ter rertire; - In my drink I upset the lamp— - Then the house war afire, - And my terror war dire! - - I stagger’d out ter the yard - And call’d for help. Ter late! - They got out all my children - But baby—little Kate— - Who met a dreadful fate! - The next mornin’, when sober’d, - I found my infant dead,— - Her body charr’d and blackened— - Her death war on my head! - My love for whisky fled? - - Berside that rough pine coffin - I knelt me down and wept, - And register’d a vow thar, - Whar little Katey slept, - Hank Rowland, I have kept! - ’Twar this: never ter touch it— - This stuff they have nam’d Gin, - What’s draggin’ others ter whar - I, findin’ out my sin, - Rerfus’d ter suck it in! - - A smile is it, Hank Rowland, - Ye invite me ter take, - At the bar of Pete Moody, - Jist for the old time sake, - And ter keep me erwake? - No, Hank, none of it for me! - ’Twould make the engels groan - Ter see me touch it. I pars! - (Rather be cheng’d ter stone) - Jist run the hand alone! - - -THE SIGN OF JOE BALL. - - Ed Colby, yer noted for yer stories - What are marvelous, while thar true, - And I know ye’ll relish a good one, - So I will rercite it ter you. - - A few nights ago I kinder crav’d for - A small morsel of sassage meat, - And, jist seizin’ my hat from the mantel, - I hurri’d out inter the street. - - At the shop of Joe Ball I diskiver’d - Some what look’d superbly nice; - The stamps war put down, and them sassages - War mine at a nomernal price. - - I carri’d them ter my house in triumph, - Without gettin’ scratch’d in the least, - And, sev’rin’ some, waited for daylight - Ter enjoy a savory feast. - - I war up with the crow of the rooster, - And went for my sassages straight. - I be gol durn’d if one wasn’t purrin’, - And rubbin’ himself ’gin the gate! - - Another had crawl’d ter the parlor, - Whar he crouched down and purr’d, - And wistfully watch’d a wire cage - Whar slumber’d my favorite bird! - - Two others I found in the coal cellar, - Anxiously layin’ for rats: - While another had her head in a pitcher - Whar wife kept the milk for the cats! - - I next look’d erbout for the balance, - And, an oath I thar gave vent ter. - Though thar tails war tied they war creepin’ - Erway from a common center! - - I survey’d ’em, and they look’d at me - From out thar harf-closed eyes, - As one of ’em told me that thar mother - Had been chopp’d up inter pies. - - The poor little orphans implor’d me - Thar infantile lives ter spar’; - But I had sich a feline mernagerie, - That I flatly rerfus’d thar pra’r. - - That mornin’ I miss’d my fav’rite rerpast - Of fried sassages, ter be sure; - But I had the satersfaction ter see - The whole lot drown’d in the sewar! - - Whenever ye see the sign of Joe Ball, - Be car’ful not ter enter his lair, - For he prides himself upon his choice stock - Of kitten spic’d sassage and hair. - -[Illustration] - - - “THE TABLE,” - - BARRY GRAY, EDITOR, - - A MONTHLY MAGAZINE, - - _Devoted exclusively to subjects connected with the - Pleasures of the Table, the Science of Cooking, and - the Art of Good Living_. - - PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE WORK. - - THE TABLE _will contain short essays on Breakfasts, - Dinners & Teas, Wines, Fruits & Confections_. - - _It will have its Breakfast Table Chat, its Dinner - Table Talk, and its Tea Table Gossip._ - - _Housekeepers and Cooks will find in it recipes for - the making of new, rare and savory dishes. A Bill - of Fare, appropriate for the season, will appear in - each number. Accounts of Public Banquets, Dinner - Parties, etc., will be recorded in its pages._ - - _The form of_ THE TABLE _will be a large octavo, - twenty pages to each number_. - - TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: - - One Copy for One Year, $1.00 - Single Copies, 10 - - M. DOOLADY, Publisher, - _98 Nassau Street_. - - - A New, Revised, Corrected, and Illustrated Edition - - OF THE - - OLD MERCHANTS - - OF - - NEW-YORK CITY. - - By WALTER BARRETT, Clerk. - - In 3 Vols., Crown 8vo, Cloth Extra. Price, $7.50. - - Of this work it is truly said “that no more interesting - reading can be found for the growing MERCANTILE - mind of the United States than a history of the LEADING - MEN who have laid the foundations of the wealth and - prosperity of its great METROPOLIS.” - - “Valuable as a book of reference.” - - THIS BOOK CAN NOT FAIL TO BE - - INTERESTING TO EVERY BUSINESS MAN. - - IT CONTAINS - - UPWARD OF 2000 PROMINENT NAMES. - - Agents wanted to Sell in all parts of the Country. - - M. DOOLADY, Publisher, - _98 Nassau Street_. - - The most interesting and thrilling Book of the day. - - PERILS OF THE PERIOD! - - A THRILLING BOOK OF FACTS! - - By JOSEPH HERTFORD. - - Price, Paper, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00. - - CONTENTS. - - At Niblo’s by Gaslight. Grace Church Morality. - In a Villain’s Toils. Crime in Pantalets. - Temptations of Hotel Life. Striking Pen Portraits. - A Bust for Ten Cents. A Private Post-Office. - The Perils of Beauty. The Amorous Epistle of a Judge. - A Meeting by Appointment. A Woman in Man’s Attire. - Fashionable Society. Fifth Avenue Belles. - From the Heights of Morality to the Rocks of Death. - -These are some of the subjects and incidents treated in this startling -record of facts. They are unpleasant examples of vice, error, and -criminal guilt, leading souls from the pinnacle of morality to the -degrading depths of sin and ruin; and a complete _exposé_ of some of -the pernicious characters which stalk through this great city by day -and night alike. Fathers, Mothers, Brothers, all should read it. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tar-Heel Tales in Vernacular Verse, by -John E. P. 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P. Doyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Tar-Heel Tales in Vernacular Verse - -Author: John E. P. Doyle - -Illustrator: Bonar - -Release Date: July 4, 2017 [EBook #55042] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAR-HEEL TALES IN VERNACULAR VERSE *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, Paul Marshall and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter covernote"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Title Page." width="600" height="976" /> -</div> - -<h1>Tar-Heel Tales<br /> <small>IN VERNACULAR VERSE</small>.</h1> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_page.jpg" alt="Title Page." width="250" height="204" /> -</div> - -<p class="f150"><b>BY <i>MAJOR JEP JOSLYNN</i></b>.</p> -<hr class="r25" /> -<p class="center">NEW YORK:</p> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M. Doolady, 98 Nassau Street.</span></p> -<p class="center">1873.</p> -<p class="center">“LITTLE BOOTS.”</p> -<p class="center">MY RERLIGION.</p> -<p class="center">THE BUZZIN’ BEES OF BERKS.</p> -<p class="center">BOB MUNN OF CAPE COD.</p> -<hr class="full" /> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="Title Page." width="500" height="748" /> -</div> -<hr class="full" /> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/frontispiece2.jpg" alt="Title Page." width="450" height="688" /> -</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="f150 break-before"><b>Tar-Heel Tales IN <span class="smcap">Vernacular Verse</span></b>.</p> -<p class="f120"><b><i>BY MAJOR JEP JOSLYNN</i>.</b></p> -<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED BY BONAR.</p> -<p class="center">NEW YORK:</p> -<p class="center">M. DOOLADY, 98 Nassau Street.</p> -<p class="center">1873.</p> - -<p class="center">Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1873,</p> -<p class="center">BY J. E. P. DOYLE,</p> -<p class="center">In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><span class="smcap">Author’s Preface.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p>The author of this little volume, in presenting it for the amusement of -the reader, and the criticism of his co-laborers on the press, feels -it proper that he should state the circumstances of its production. -While serving as a staff officer with Sherman’s army in North Carolina, -often has he listened for hours to the recitals of adventures on the -part of the Tar-Heel refugees from the pineries, who crowded our camps -in search of food. Having studied with interest the habits and quaint -dialect of this poor, but honest class, the author has created Major -Jep Joslynn, and permitted him to weave some of these “Tales” into -verse. The incident described in “The Buzzin’ Bees of Berks” were -actually witnessed by him while on the advance of Hambright’s brigade -of the Fourteenth corps, assisting in the prevention of pillage. Two -or three of these Tales have been published in the press over Major -Joslynn’s signature. With these explanations the author will take a -back seat and request silence from pit to dome while the veracious -Tar-Heel entertains you with his Vernacular Verses.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>HORACE GREELEY.</h2> -<p class="f120"><span class="smcap">By Jep Joslynn.</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush! a nation’s pulse stands still!</span> -<span class="i0">Through it is flashed a thrill</span> -<span class="i24">Of genuine grief!</span> -<span class="i0">Grief for the Great and Good—</span> -<span class="i0">Grief for the one who stood</span> -<span class="i24">In strong relief,</span> -<span class="i0">And half a century braved</span> -<span class="i0">Opinion for the enslaved,</span> -<span class="i0">To find his name engraved</span> -<span class="i24">On Life’s clear leaf!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A rustic child of ours,</span> -<span class="i0">Who in Green Mountain bowers</span> -<span class="i24">Was born to earth,</span> -<span class="i0">Attained a giant life</span> -<span class="i0">’Mid scenes of bitter strife</span> -<span class="i24">That prov’d his worth!</span> -<span class="i0">And, dying, leaves behind him,</span> -<span class="i0">In hearts that have enshrined him</span> -<span class="i0">Affection’s links that bind him</span> -<span class="i24">To every hearth!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the solemn church bell toll</span> -<span class="i0">For the passing of a soul</span> -<span class="i24">To peaceful rest:</span> -<span class="i0">Let tender tears be shed</span> -<span class="i0">For the illust’rous dead</span> -<span class="i24">Who’s hand we’ve prest!</span> -<span class="i0">For hearts to-day are riven—</span> -<span class="i0">A <span class="smcap">Light</span> went out at even</span> -<span class="i0">To glow anew in Heaven</span> -<span class="i24">Among the Blest!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—New York Evening Telegram.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="f120 space-above2 break-before">To<br /><b>FREDERIC HUDSON</b>,</p> - -<p class="center">THE TALENTED JOURNALIST AND COURTEOUS GENTLEMAN, WHOSE<br /> -FRATERNAL INTEREST IN YOUNG WRITERS, AND WHOSE<br /> -CONSIDERATE AND PATIENT TREATMENT OF ALL WITH<br /> -WHOM HE HAS HAD BUSINESS RELATIONS, HAVE<br /> -ENDEARED HIM TO THEM, THIS VOLUME IS<br /> -DEDICATED, BY HIS LATE SUBORDINATE AND SINCERE ADMIRER,</p> - -<p class="f120">The Author.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter break-before"> - <img src="images/illo_01.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="118" /> -</div> - -<p class="f150 u"><b>CONTENTS</b>.</p> -<table class="space-below3" border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Contents." cellpadding="2"> - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdr">  <small>PAGE</small>.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Curse of Pedergogue Scott</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9"> 9</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Bob Munn of Cape Cod</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Rerligion</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Little Boots</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Buzzin’ Bees of Berks</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">That Little Black Pet of Our’n</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Old Tom Gin</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Sign of Joe Ball</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> - -<p class="f150 u"><b>ILLUSTRATIONS.</b></p> -<table class="space-below3" border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Illustrations." cellpadding="2"> - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Planting the Thistles</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#THISTLES">13</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Bob Munn’s Transfiguration    </span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#MUNN">21</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Deacon Sparling’s Devotion</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#DEACON">26</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Tar Heel’s Return</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#RETURN">35</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Mule’s Baptism</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#BAPTISM">46</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jonah’s Landlord</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#JONAH">50</a></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_02.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="120" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">The Curse of Pedergogue Scott.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_scott.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="62" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="72" alt="T" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THAT’S a question I don’t like ter speak of:</span> -<span class="i6">How these pesky thistles come here;</span> -<span class="i0">But, boys, if ye will listen attentervely,</span> -<span class="i2">I will breathe a strenge tale in yer ear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But afore I bergin I would warn ye,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye may fix yer faces ter blush;</span> -<span class="i0">So jist let thar be silence all around</span> -<span class="i2">And I’ll spin the yarn with a rush.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ha! ha! ha! I larf when I think of it—</span> -<span class="i2">The days when a youngster I sat</span> -<span class="i0">On a rough pine bench in the lorg school house,</span> -<span class="i2">And din’d orf the rim of my hat!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The other boys war bigger than I war,</span> -<span class="i2">And studied thar lesson right well,</span> -<span class="i0">While I ermus’d myself as I wish’d ter</span> -<span class="i2">In quar tricks on which I’ll not dwell.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I war ter young ter learn my letters,—</span> -<span class="i2">They let me ’tend school for all that;</span> -<span class="i0">And then when I run short of ermusement</span> -<span class="i2">I jerk’d at the tail of the cat!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I increas’d in years and mischief,</span> -<span class="i2">Sich as hazin’ our neighbor’s pig,</span> -<span class="i0">Pourin’ ink on the floor, or applyin’</span> -<span class="i2">Powder’d chalk ter the master’s wig—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Richard Scott—that war the pedergogue’s name—</span> -<span class="i2">Declar’d in wrath he’d be killin’</span> -<span class="i0">Me, if I did not be quiet and sit</span> -<span class="i2">Bertween ter gals—I war willin’!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Young as I war I lik’d that ye may swar</span> -<span class="i2">On the hilts of yer bowie knives;</span> -<span class="i0">And though but eight years I bergun ter sigh</span> -<span class="i2">For a plurality of wives!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, Tip Tracey, ye may smile over thar</span> -<span class="i2">At the picter I’ve painted you;</span> -<span class="i0">But that gal-punershment of Richard Scott</span> -<span class="i2">War a pleasure ter them gals, too!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By-an’-by I had master’d my letters,</span> -<span class="i2">And bergun on my <i>b i bi’s</i>;</span> -<span class="i0">From that I prergress’d to somethin’ better—</span> -<span class="i2">Admirin’ my companions’ eyes.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nearly every day I got the ferule</span> -<span class="i2">Jist for winkin’ at Sue Minals;</span> -<span class="i0">But very soon I had so far prergress’d</span> -<span class="i2">I war plighted ter sev’ral gals!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I had not been ter school quite a twelvemonth</span> -<span class="i2">When I’d whal’d each boy in the class,</span> -<span class="i0">Kiss’d and hugg’d every gal, eaten Scott’s lunch,</span> -<span class="i2">And ten rivals had sent ter grass!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I put toads in Scott’s pockets, and dead mice</span> -<span class="i2">Scatter’d everywhar in his desk,</span> -<span class="i0">Till he froth’d at the mouth in his madness,</span> -<span class="i2">And cuss’d me for a little pest.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All this tuk place over in Canada,</span> -<span class="i2">Whar my gov’ner had gone ter preach</span> -<span class="i0">The Gospel of Jesus ter them sinners,</span> -<span class="i2">As successor ter Elder Beech.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But don’t tire at th’ length of my story:</span> -<span class="i2">I’m drawin’ erlong ter the close,</span> -<span class="i0">Whar I gather’d the seeds that have blarsted,</span> -<span class="i2">And fill’d a whole nation with woes.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="THISTLES" id="THISTLES"></a> - <img src="images/i_013.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="400" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One day when I’d been worse than usual,—</span> -<span class="i2">Put snuff in the master’s whistle—</span> -<span class="i0"><i>Old Scott tuk me out berhind the rear wall,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And sot me down on a thistle!</i></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An hour and a half he held me thar,</span> -<span class="i2">While the barbs pen’trated the skin!</span> -<span class="i0">Havin’ planted the crop, the pedergogue,</span> -<span class="i2">With my trousers harrer’d it in!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That harrerin’ event I can’t forget,</span> -<span class="i2">For it fairly set me rantin’:</span> -<span class="i0">I wood not car’d had the agricult’rist</span> -<span class="i2">Chosen higher soil ter plant in!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But that war cruel, and for months I felt</span> -<span class="i2">Them bull thistle seeds takin’ root,</span> -<span class="i0">And creepin’ about in the tender flesh</span> -<span class="i2">From hat crown ter toe of my boot.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">After that I went back on old Dick Scott,</span> -<span class="i2">And lit out for York State ye bet;</span> -<span class="i0">But each Spring I war sowin’ the thistles,</span> -<span class="i2">No rest anywhar could I get.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have toted them thistles all over,</span> -<span class="i2">And planted ’em in every field,</span> -<span class="i0">Whar I’ve halted ter rest; but dog on it!</span> -<span class="i2">Thar seems a ter bounterful yield!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, neighbors, that is a right true story</span> -<span class="i2">I’ve told ye, and is it not queer</span> -<span class="i0">That I cannot get shut of ’em? That is</span> -<span class="i2">How Canada thistles reached here!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So whenever ye cut down yer thistles</span> -<span class="i2">Don’t cuss me ter strong. May I rot</span> -<span class="i0">In a roadside ditch if I can help it!</span> -<span class="i2"><i>They are the curse of Richard Scott!</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_01.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="118" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">Bob Munn of Cape Cod.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_cape_cod.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="79" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_i.jpg" width="45" height="69" alt="I" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d drop-cap">I BERLIEVE it’s cornceeded on all sides</span> -<span class="i6">That of all the cute bipeds made</span> -<span class="i0">Since the world war created, the Yankee</span> -<span class="i2">Allers gets the best in a trade!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s a boast that no race can match ’em</span> -<span class="i2">In expedients sure ter win:</span> -<span class="i0">And all others must get up right early</span> -<span class="i2">If they would n’t be taken in!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As a proof of this ere declaration</span> -<span class="i2">They tell of one up at Cape Cod,</span> -<span class="i0">Who’s so all-fir’d smart he endeavor’d</span> -<span class="i2">Ter play a trump kerd at his God!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s a fisherman by occerpation,</span> -<span class="i2">Is this feller they call Bob Munn;</span> -<span class="i0">And ter dry his fish he ask’d <i>mandamus</i></span> -<span class="i2">Ter sercure more light from the sun!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The court would not listen ter the motion,</span> -<span class="i2">But this action did not appall:</span> -<span class="i0">He fix’d up a merchine ter uterlize</span> -<span class="i2">The rerfulgent rays of old Sol.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With powerful glasses he center’d</span> -<span class="i2">The rays on his cargoes of cod,</span> -<span class="i0">And chuckl’d right smart at his success</span> -<span class="i2">In stealin’ the smiles of his God!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a time his merchine work’d ter a charm,</span> -<span class="i2">And his sackerlege war endur’d;</span> -<span class="i0">While his rivals in trade war astonish’d</span> -<span class="i2">At the many quintals he cur’d.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Bob Munn, he grew bold in his averice,</span> -<span class="i2">And the splendid march he had stole</span> -<span class="i0">Upon his Creator and his rivals,</span> -<span class="i2">E’en at the expense of his soul.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He had read in the Scripters of Lot’s wife</span> -<span class="i2">Who ter salt war chang’d in a night,</span> -<span class="i0">As a punershment for diserbedience</span> -<span class="i2">And exercizin’ wimin’s right—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(A right ter pry inter other’s affa’rs</span> -<span class="i2">By evesdroppin’ if she’s inclin’d,</span> -<span class="i0">For which each one of ’em should be treated</span> -<span class="i2">As Lot’s mistress what look’d berhind.)</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, endin’ he aposterphe, I must</span> -<span class="i2">Return ter the exploits of Munn,</span> -<span class="i0">Who ignor’d the bounty of Jerhover,</span> -<span class="i2">And corntiner’d ter steal the sun!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The story of Lot’s wife impress’d him</span> -<span class="i2">With a more avericious wish—</span> -<span class="i0">The diskivery of arter-fish-al means</span> -<span class="i2">For ter salt his catches of fish.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the shores of Cape Cod in them days</span> -<span class="i2">Many old maids sigh’d alone</span> -<span class="i0">For the lips of a man ter caress ’em,</span> -<span class="i2">And the means ter sercure a home.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They had been doom’d ter sore diserpointment,</span> -<span class="i2">The girlish bloom had diserpear’d,</span> -<span class="i0">Leavin’ a shad-er of thar lost beauty</span> -<span class="i2">On the features so dry and sear’d.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bob Munn, he long ponder’d on the subject</span> -<span class="i2">Of testin’ that ere recerpe,</span> -<span class="i0">What work’d ter a charm at old Gomorrer,</span> -<span class="i2">And set a poor hen-peck’d man free!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God had smil’d upon his undertakin’s,</span> -<span class="i2">And he felt he might tempt him still,</span> -<span class="i0">With a more ingenious expererment,</span> -<span class="i2">Ter bring a fresh grist ter his mill.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then he sent out many invertations—</span> -<span class="i2">Corlected the maids at his board,</span> -<span class="i0">And while they war gossippin’ o’er thar tea</span> -<span class="i2">In his chamber he ask’d the Lord—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ter merakerlously chenge ’em ter salt</span> -<span class="i2">The cheaper ter cure his fresh cod;</span> -<span class="i0">Then in faith he erose from his marrers,</span> -<span class="i2">And his sinful tamp’rin’ with God!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now Bob Munn in his folly expected</span> -<span class="i2">On rejinin’ his guests ter find</span> -<span class="i0">The work he’d mapped out for the Master,</span> -<span class="i2">Perform’d by His Infernite mind.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="MUNN" id="MUNN"></a> - <img src="images/i_021.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="408" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But not so. On reachin’ the tea-drinkers,</span> -<span class="i2">Whar he trusted ter git his wish,</span> -<span class="i0">No pillars of salt war thar; but <i>harf of</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Munn’s carcass war cheng’d ter a fish</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bob Munn soon diskiver’d it war wrongful,</span> -<span class="i2">And, chagrin’d tuk ter the water:</span> -<span class="i0">Becomin’ an amphibious anermal,</span> -<span class="i2">The first mermaid war his daughter.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two centuries have pars’d away since then;</span> -<span class="i2">The mermaids have multerplied,</span> -<span class="i0">And, old mariners say, it all comes from</span> -<span class="i2">Lovin’ fish premerturely dri’d!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, although I won’t vouch for it, they say</span> -<span class="i2">This is why the Yankees like cod,</span> -<span class="i0">Car’fully season’d, and salted and cur’d</span> -<span class="i2">By the means pervided by God.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">But the moral</span>—ye see it war sinful</span> -<span class="i2">Ter tempt the Almighty ter fast!</span> -<span class="i0">And this story will show ye how <i>He got</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The best of that Yankee at last</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whenever ye hear tell of a mermaid</span> -<span class="i2">Be warn’d by the sin of poor Bob,</span> -<span class="i0">Who attempted ter stock the kerds upon</span> -<span class="i2">His Maker, but—botch’d the job!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_02.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="120" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">My Rerligion.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_rerligion.jpg" alt="_" width="250" height="70" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_i.jpg" width="45" height="69" alt="I" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d drop-cap">I DO not gamble much on Rerligion,</span> -<span class="i6">Nor show a sanctermonious look</span> -<span class="i0">Down here under my hat when they mention</span> -<span class="i2">The Bible—that spiritu’l book—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What’s a guide-board ter every stray traveler</span> -<span class="i2">In the pathway leadin’ ter God;</span> -<span class="i0">I do not clasp my hands in dervotion,</span> -<span class="i2">And at the church minister nod,—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Extollin’ his favorite utterances;</span> -<span class="i2">Nor jine in the fervent “Amen,”</span> -<span class="i0">That the folks in the meetin’ may think me</span> -<span class="i2">One of them most pious laymen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor go down on my marrers durin’ pr’ar,</span> -<span class="i2">Raise my eyes ter Heaven and cry</span> -<span class="i0">Ter God ter pour out His Holy Spirit,</span> -<span class="i2">And bless me with grace from on High!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In meetin’ I do not yell out “Glory!”</span> -<span class="i2">“Bless the Lord who died for sinners!”</span> -<span class="i0">“Come down, dear Jesus; I’ll clasp ye right here!”</span> -<span class="i2">Nor ’nvite the parson ter dinners.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve sarch’d from Gen’ses ter Reverlation</span> -<span class="i2">For a precerdent, but I can’t</span> -<span class="i0">Find that Christ and His Erpostles have spent</span> -<span class="i2">The Sabbath in boisterous rant!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The knees of my Sabbath mornin’ trousers</span> -<span class="i2">May not show same ermount of war’</span> -<span class="i0">As those of Deacon Horatio Sparling,</span> -<span class="i2">Who’s worn holes in his’n at pra’r.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="DEACON" id="DEACON"></a> - <img src="images/i_026.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="392" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>I may not show the white of my eyes, like</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The Deacon who looks for rerward</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For countin’ the number of the rarfters,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>When they pars the cup of the Lord!</i></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am not in the habit of tellin’</span> -<span class="i2">Sinners they’ll be left in the lurch,</span> -<span class="i0">In the last great day when Jerhover comes,</span> -<span class="i2">If thar not members of the church!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or skeerin’ ’em with brimstone and fire,</span> -<span class="i2">And the vengeance of thar Maker,</span> -<span class="i0">If they turn thar backs on the Pascal Lamb,</span> -<span class="i2">And fail ter be a pertaker!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not prerclaim ter all my neighbors</span> -<span class="i2">Who’ve not bow’d down in corntrition</span> -<span class="i0">And jin’d the meetin’, that they’ve cartenly</span> -<span class="i2">A through ticket ter perdition!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That when the Lord shall come in His glory,</span> -<span class="i2">If thar not as pure as snow,</span> -<span class="i0">He will hurl His hot bolts of wrath at ’em,</span> -<span class="i2">And tell ’em ter git up and go!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That when the ran’som’d have enter’d in,</span> -<span class="i2">With the Lord ter thar final rest</span> -<span class="i0">In Heaven, and have put on the white robes</span> -<span class="i2">Emblermatical of the Blest—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The guilty sinner will be shunted orf</span> -<span class="i2">Ter lakes of sul-furious fires</span> -<span class="i0">Whar murderers, burgulars and drunkards</span> -<span class="i2">Pursue thar unlicens’d desires.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is true I do not wrench from the poor</span> -<span class="i2">Part of the proceeds of thar sweat,</span> -<span class="i0">That my name may look large on subscriptions,</span> -<span class="i2">And that I may complerments get!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And be known as a great pherlanterpist</span> -<span class="i2">When they pars the corlection plate,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>That receives money wrung from a brother,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Or filch’d from his orphan’s erstate</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, no! I will freely own up ter it:</span> -<span class="i2">This sort of Rerligion don’t meet</span> -<span class="i0">My views of what’s right—what Jesus rerquires</span> -<span class="i2">Of all what come near ter His seat.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My idea of Christianity</span> -<span class="i2">Is of quite a different type,</span> -<span class="i0">And all them supercillious ranters</span> -<span class="i2">Who think for the Harvest thar ripe,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That, through thar pra’r and thar false prerfession,</span> -<span class="i2">They have been cleans’d of all thar sin,</span> -<span class="i0">Will find, when they apply for admission,</span> -<span class="i2">They have a slim chance ter get in!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My Rerligion is not a prerfession</span> -<span class="i2">That “I am holier than thou!”</span> -<span class="i0">That a man can not serve his Creator</span> -<span class="i2">If he don’t make a saintly bow!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The follerers of the Blessed Jesus,</span> -<span class="i2">Who war cradl’d in a menger,</span> -<span class="i0">Will strive ter love thar neighbor as themselves,</span> -<span class="i2">And gladden the lonely strenger—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With kindnesses what go home ter the heart</span> -<span class="i2">In hour of his greatest need,</span> -<span class="i0">And act the part of the Sermaritan,</span> -<span class="i2">Of whom we all derlight ter read.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I may be a sinner, and I doubt not</span> -<span class="i2">Have done heaps of things that war wrong;</span> -<span class="i0">But I love the example of the Lord,</span> -<span class="i2">And in secret pour out in song—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My acknolergements for His great bounty;</span> -<span class="i2">And I strive ter keep His commands,</span> -<span class="i0">What war written on tablets by Moses,</span> -<span class="i2">When Jerhover guided his hands!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>In them, Commandments ye get the essence</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Of the Truth as given ter man;</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And if a poor sinner lives up ter ’em,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And labors the best that he can—</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>No matter if he is out of the church,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Whar the wicked ones are cryin’</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For mercy! He’ll not be with the Deacon</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Blubb’rin’ at the gates of Zion!</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_01.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="118" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">Little Boots.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_little_boots.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="73" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_w.jpg" width="49" height="69" alt="W" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">WAL, neighbor, ye have got me right sure</span> -<span class="i6">When ye put a question like that:</span> -<span class="i0">The age of my youngster—“Little Boots,”</span> -<span class="i2">So frolicksome, funny and fat?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The year and the day he war cradl’d</span> -<span class="i2">By the nurse what waited about;</span> -<span class="i0">And stood watch over Polly jist thar,</span> -<span class="i2">And heer’d his first inferntile shout?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s a brilliant pearl in our cabin—</span> -<span class="i2">Is “Little Boots”—that’s cartenly true:</span> -<span class="i0">But durn me if I know he <i>war born</i>!</span> -<span class="i2">Maybe—like Miss Topsey—he grew!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, strenger; bring yer cheer ter the fire.</span> -<span class="i2">Here’s some juice of the grape. Maybe</span> -<span class="i0">Ye’ll not stand upon manners jist now,</span> -<span class="i2">For I’ve no great larnin’, ye see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I’ll tell ye the story of “Boots”—</span> -<span class="i2">Dog on’d strenge as ’t may seem ter <i>you</i>;—</span> -<span class="i0">But may my ha’r be cheng’d ter black snakes</span> -<span class="i2">If it is not Scripterly true!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye see, we come down ter Car’lina</span> -<span class="i2">Five years ago, comin’ next Fall,—</span> -<span class="i0">Polly and me, and our setter dorg:</span> -<span class="i2">Without a mule or beast ter haul.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here I knock’d up a little cabin,</span> -<span class="i2">And skeer’d up a nigger or so,</span> -<span class="i0">At odd times ter jine in the plantin’,</span> -<span class="i2">And a startin’ the crop ter grow!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wal, for a time we prosper’d right smart—</span> -<span class="i2">Long afore “Little Boots” war born—</span> -<span class="i0">But we fretted in vain for a somethin’,</span> -<span class="i2">Though harvestin’ cotton and corn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the drought spil’d the crops, and one day—</span> -<span class="i2">Leavin’ Polly ter boss the help—</span> -<span class="i0">I kissed her good bye, and dug out</span> -<span class="i2">Ter rough it a while by myself!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three years I work’d hard in the gold mines—</span> -<span class="i2">’Way out in the mountains, ye see,</span> -<span class="i0">Whar a feller don’t have sich comforts</span> -<span class="i2">As a wife and a boy on the knee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wal, at last I grew rather homesick,</span> -<span class="i2">And, ’thout writin’ Polly a word,</span> -<span class="i0">I ti’d up my kit for a journey,</span> -<span class="i2">And—slop’d for the home I prerferr’d?</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="RETURN" id="RETURN"></a> - <img src="images/i_035.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="401" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forty days I war comin’ ter Clark’s:</span> -<span class="i2">A week brought me here ter the door,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>When I peek’d through a hole in the wall:</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>“Little Boots” war squat on the floor</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The supper war spread on the table,</span> -<span class="i2">And Polly war pourin’ the tea</span> -<span class="i0">For Tom Smart, who had dropp’d in jist then</span> -<span class="i2">Ter hear if she’d got word from me.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, Tom Smart war an old friend of our’n,</span> -<span class="i2">Who had shown much friendly corncern</span> -<span class="i0">In Polly and me, and, heaps of times,</span> -<span class="i2">Had render’d a neighborly turn!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, ter come ter the pint; I cornfess,</span> -<span class="i2">I chuck’d my rerligion erside!</span> -<span class="i0">And when they decla’r’d this boy war mine,</span> -<span class="i2">I cussed ’em, and told ’em they lied!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, strenger, I’d been away three years</span> -<span class="i2">From Polly and home, yet, forsooth,</span> -<span class="i0">The youngster they tried ter palm on me,</span> -<span class="i2">Had only jist cut his first tooth!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Polly, she kiss’d me so kind-like,</span> -<span class="i2">And prertested that she had been true,</span> -<span class="i0">That I tuk “Little Boots” ter my arms,—</span> -<span class="i2">Why, strenger, what else could I do?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since then I’ve been thinkin’ it over:</span> -<span class="i2">How this youngster chanc’d inter life,—</span> -<span class="i0">Durn me, if I don’t fear it’s the fault</span> -<span class="i2">Of Tom Smart and Polly, my wife!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I don’t like ter suspicion my Polly</span> -<span class="i2">Who’s jist now appearin’ in view;</span> -<span class="i0">But, somehow, I don’t think it’s nat’ral</span> -<span class="i2">That our “Boots” should come thus. Do you?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">However, I’ll not fret erbout it:</span> -<span class="i2">Say nothin’; my wife’s at the door:</span> -<span class="i0">But one thing take note on:—<i>We’re happy</i>,</span> -<span class="i2">And—Tom Smart don’t come here no more!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now that is the whole histry of “Boots,”</span> -<span class="i2">A plaguey quar case. It’s not clear!</span> -<span class="i0">How this boy can be mine I can’t guess,</span> -<span class="i2">Or how in the world he reach’d here!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he’s Polly’s, that’s carten and sure,</span> -<span class="i2">And I admit him inte my heart,</span> -<span class="i0">Although he bars a strikin’ rersemblance</span> -<span class="i2">Ter that Tar-heel known as Tom Smart!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_02.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="120" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">The Buzzin’ Bees of Berks.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_bees.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="90" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_b.jpg" width="45" height="69" alt="B" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">BOYS, ye ask me ter spin ye a story</span> -<span class="i6">Of adventer by flood or field,</span> -<span class="i0">Or stand for licker ter bits at the bar,—</span> -<span class="i2">Ter the former, of course, I’ll yield;</span> -<span class="i0">For I’m rather short of greenbacks jist now,</span> -<span class="i2">Havin’ been out of work some time.</span> -<span class="i0">So, hear goes for a yarn, but ye must not</span> -<span class="i2">Make sport of my effort at rhyme—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in youth I had no eddercation,</span> -<span class="i2">’Cept crumbs pick’d up by the way,</span> -<span class="i0">A scratchin’ figgers on the old school house</span> -<span class="i2">Of our pedergogue, Milton Gray.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Of course, ye know I war one of them chaps</span> -<span class="i2">What with Sherman march’d ter the sea,</span> -<span class="i0">From Atlanter, the stronghold we’d captur’d,</span> -<span class="i2">Ter the forts down on the ’Gechee.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It war in Nervember we burn’d the place:</span> -<span class="i2">On the seventeenth we cut loose</span> -<span class="i0">From our base of surplies, and started orf</span> -<span class="i2">Ter exercute Sherman’s <i>ruse</i>,</span> -<span class="i0">That he war playin’ on Hood, the rebel,</span> -<span class="i2">Who’d unkiver’d his flanks ter soon,</span> -<span class="i0">For he left the way cl’ar for us ter raid</span> -<span class="i2">Ter Servanner or ter the moon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It war on that march the ervent tuk place</span> -<span class="i2">Of which I am goin’ ter tell,</span> -<span class="i0">Of how I ran inter a nest ef bees,</span> -<span class="i2">And thar got a foretaste of hell!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -<span class="i0">On the sixth day out we had got well down</span> -<span class="i2">In Berks county, n’ar the borders,</span> -<span class="i0">And on that ere raid, ye may bet yer pile,</span> -<span class="i2">We did not car’ much for orders!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But each man dug out upon his own hook,</span> -<span class="i2">And rush’d for the front and plunder:</span> -<span class="i0">N’arly all of ’em got thar full of it,</span> -<span class="i2">But some of the boys went under;</span> -<span class="i0">For, ye see, thar war stray rebels erbout,</span> -<span class="i2">Who would swing ’em up by the necks,</span> -<span class="i0">When they cetch’d ’em totin’ erway the grub—</span> -<span class="i2">And hundreds parsed in thar checks!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In them days I war not at all skeery—</span> -<span class="i2">Impressin’ a mule, I lit out</span> -<span class="i0">For the front, whar the bummers war raidin’</span> -<span class="i2">And scourin’ the country erbout—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Stealin’ chickens, or killin’ hogs by day,</span> -<span class="i2">(Or goin’ through a trunk, perchance;)</span> -<span class="i0">Then at night they would camp for ter eat ’em,</span> -<span class="i2">With pickets thrown out in advance.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They would coral thar mules in the forest,</span> -<span class="i2">Unsling knapsacks and build a fire,</span> -<span class="i0">Of pine logs, dry knots, or rails from the farms;</span> -<span class="i2">Then, chuck full of pork, they’d rertire</span> -<span class="i0">Ter slumbers disturb’d by the dyin’ squeals</span> -<span class="i2">Of swine they had slaughter’d for tea,</span> -<span class="i0">’Til they thought the devils had come back from</span> -<span class="i2">Those Jesus druv inter the sea!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I have told ye, I jin’d the bummers</span> -<span class="i2">With my mule, my gun and canteen,</span> -<span class="i0">And the days that I roam’d about with ’em</span> -<span class="i2">War the jolliest I have seen;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -<span class="i0">But as we pars’d out of Berks one mornin’,</span> -<span class="i2">Far erhead of the “acorn” corps,</span> -<span class="i0">We soon diskiver’d a fine old homestead,</span> -<span class="i2">And a fair young gal in the door.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now while I did not do any stealin’,</span> -<span class="i2">And paid cash for all I seized,</span> -<span class="i0">If thar’s one thing I love it is wimin,</span> -<span class="i2">And, if thar pretty, I am pleas’d;</span> -<span class="i0">And when I saw more than a dozen bee hives</span> -<span class="i2">Lercated right thar in the yerd,</span> -<span class="i0">And the boys goin’ quickly terwards ’em,</span> -<span class="i2">I felt that it war mighty hard.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I spurr’d up my mule, and then prertested</span> -<span class="i2">Not one should be tak’n from thar;</span> -<span class="i0">But the fellers jist snickered right out,</span> -<span class="i2">And told me ter go comb my ha’r—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And dry up, for they would have them hives</span> -<span class="i2">If they had ter eat bees berside,</span> -<span class="i0">And if I did not like it I could jist</span> -<span class="i2">Crawl out of my pesky old hide.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Objections war no use erbout them days;</span> -<span class="i2">And, like a cornsumate old fool,</span> -<span class="i0">I drew rein at the gate ef the house, and</span> -<span class="i2">Watch’d ’em from the back of my mule.</span> -<span class="i0">Then them soldiers made a sortie on the bees</span> -<span class="i2">With thar ponchos, and tuk ’em quick</span> -<span class="i0">Ter the stream near by whar they drowned them,</span> -<span class="i2">And lifted the hives from the creek.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While this war doin’ I sat on that mule,</span> -<span class="i2">Till Dick Mullens upset a hive,</span> -<span class="i0">And a swarm of mad bees came tearin’ out,</span> -<span class="i2">And, soarin’ around, made a dive</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Right squar for my mule; they lit on his flanks,</span> -<span class="i2">And his neck, his ears and back:—</span> -<span class="i0">He rear’d and snorted, threw his head in air,</span> -<span class="i2">Then quickly tuk a le’ard tack!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And erway on a fearful race he broke</span> -<span class="i2">Over fences, lorgs, ditches and rocks,</span> -<span class="i0">Headin’ for the water under the hill—</span> -<span class="i2">He near shook me out of my socks!</span> -<span class="i0">On his break-neck race for that brook berlow</span> -<span class="i2">It war needless ter pull on the rein,</span> -<span class="i0">For that ugly mule war dead set upon</span> -<span class="i2">Gittin’ rid of his bitin’ pain!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With me the siteration war quite bad—</span> -<span class="i2">That mule’s hide war thicker than mine;</span> -<span class="i0">And when they lit on me I fit a while:</span> -<span class="i2">Then foller’d the mule’s bee line!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -<span class="i0">We reach’d the creek—ye may not berlieve it—</span> -<span class="i2">But that mule went down on his knees</span> -<span class="i0">In that ere stream, and roll’d over on me,</span> -<span class="i2">Jist ter rid himself of the bees!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="BAPTISM" id="BAPTISM"></a> - <img src="images/i_046.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="386" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The muddy water war full four feet deep,</span> -<span class="i2">And I came quite n’ar bein’ drown’d,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>As with the old mule I battl’d thar,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>With the bees what war buzzin’ ’round</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -<span class="i0">I shall never forget that frisky brute,</span> -<span class="i2">What flounder’d erbout and shook</span> -<span class="i0">Them ere buzzin’ insects from orf his ears,</span> -<span class="i2">And danced like mad in the brook,—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One minute he lay flat upon his back—</span> -<span class="i2"><i>The next balanced, on his fores,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With his tail stuck out, and kickin’ like mad,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>As the bees fell on him by scores</i>!</span> -<span class="i0">Wal, while this battle war ergoin’ on</span> -<span class="i2">’Twixt the bees and the valiant mule,</span> -<span class="i0">I had a chance ter crawl up ter the bank—</span> -<span class="i2">Don’t say that my action war cru’l—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the critter war much better prepar’d</span> -<span class="i2">With his tail ter banish his foes,</span> -<span class="i0">While I had not a durn’d thing erbout me</span> -<span class="i2">Ter aid him the battle ter close.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -<span class="i0">I had had quite ernough of that skirmish,</span> -<span class="i2">And erway up the hill I run</span> -<span class="i0">As quickly as my shanks would carry me,</span> -<span class="i2">In sarch of my knapsack and gun.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I had found them I war satersfied,</span> -<span class="i2">And did not rernew the ertack</span> -<span class="i0">On them wild bees; but, boys, I’m not carten</span> -<span class="i2"><i>But that mule still lies on his back</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Erway down thar in Berks county, fightin’</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The dercendents of them mad bees</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>What that day swarm’d out of that broken hive!</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>That’s the yarn!</i>—Who’s treat is it, please?</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_01.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="118" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">That Little Black Pet of Our’n.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_pet.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="74" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_e.jpg" width="45" height="68" alt="E" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d drop-cap">ELDER, quite a good story is that</span> -<span class="i6">Ye read from the Bible ter-day,</span> -<span class="i0">Of how that truant, surnam’d Jonah,</span> -<span class="i2">Succeeded in findin’ his way</span> -<span class="i2">Ter the mouth of that erbligin’ whale,</span> -<span class="i0">What tuk him in out of the wet,</span> -<span class="i2">And entertain’d him three days and nights,</span> -<span class="i2">Whar thar’s free erpartments ter let!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Pears ter me, that whale war kind-hearted</span> -<span class="i2">Ter render sich an act; I’m sure</span> -<span class="i0">Most lan’lords would jist tell him ter git</span> -<span class="i2">Mighty quick away from thar door—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -<span class="i0">If he’d not the spondulicks ter pay</span> -<span class="i2">For his meals, his washin’ and bed;</span> -<span class="i0">But this generous whale surplied all,</span> -<span class="i2">And never tax’d Jonah a red!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <a name="JONAH" id="JONAH"></a> - <img src="images/i_050.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="400" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do ye think ye could find a lan’lord</span> -<span class="i2">In these days as kind as that whale,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>What opened his mouth and ax’d him in</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>When the sea war runnin’ a gale</i>!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -<span class="i0">I guess ye’d look a long while, Elder,</span> -<span class="i2">Ter find one in this ere big State,</span> -<span class="i0">Who would not a cuss’d right smart at him,</span> -<span class="i2">And left Mr. J. ter his fate.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Elder, I’ve been thinkin’ it over,</span> -<span class="i2">And, dog on it! I cannot see</span> -<span class="i0">How that story can be at all true;</span> -<span class="i2">But as <i>you</i> say so, it must be:</span> -<span class="i0">For ye teech us ter berlieve each word</span> -<span class="i2">What is writ for our edderfecation,</span> -<span class="i0">Ter turn poor sinners ter Jesus Christ,</span> -<span class="i2">And rescue ’em from damnation!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll take the yarn, as the whale tuk in</span> -<span class="i2">Mr. Jonah, without any doubt;</span> -<span class="i0">But, years ago, an ervent tuk place,</span> -<span class="i2">What I will tell ye all erbout—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And if ye don’t say, it matches your’n</span> -<span class="i2">My name is not Pherlander Lee:</span> -<span class="i0">It tuk place when I war rarftin’ lorgs,</span> -<span class="i2">Years ago, upon the Suanee,—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With Ashley Cole, Will Starks and Ed. Flynn,</span> -<span class="i2">And a dozen or more, maybe,</span> -<span class="i0">Of lumbermen, who work’d all day at</span> -<span class="i2">Ermanuel labor with me.</span> -<span class="i0">We anchor’d our rarft n’ar Cedar Keys,</span> -<span class="i2">And squatted down berside the stream</span> -<span class="i0">One evenin’, and after supper dropp’d orf</span> -<span class="i2">Ter slumber, ter rest and dream—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of wives and children we’d left erbove</span> -<span class="i2">In the pineries days berfore;</span> -<span class="i0">And now, worn out with lerborious toil,</span> -<span class="i2">We quickly bergan for ter snore.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Ter keep the flies orf we built a fire,</span> -<span class="i2">And Fanny, my little black dorg,</span> -<span class="i0">That I thought a mighty sight of, sir,</span> -<span class="i2">Doubl’d up ter snooze on a lorg—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A few yards from the fire. A sharp yelp</span> -<span class="i2">Woke me from my dreams, and, springin’</span> -<span class="i0">Right out of my cot, I hurried orf</span> -<span class="i2">Whar the cries of my Fanny war ringin’</span> -<span class="i0">On the air, as an allergater</span> -<span class="i2">In his jaws had cru’lly caught her,</span> -<span class="i0">And war makin’ right orf with my pet,</span> -<span class="i2">Ter his young ’ns in the water!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seizin’ a club, I feller’d right fast</span> -<span class="i2">After the stealthy, thievin’ brute;</span> -<span class="i0">But the night war dark, and the critter</span> -<span class="i2">Successfully baffled pursuit!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -<span class="i0">My dorg war gone: ’twar no use frettin’</span> -<span class="i2">O’er raid of that allergater,</span> -<span class="i0">What had sneak’d my pet from orf that lorg,</span> -<span class="i2">And, I doubted not, had ate her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She did not come back ter tell the tale</span> -<span class="i2">Of how she had been sneak’d away,</span> -<span class="i0">And I mourn’d her as lost ter me forever,</span> -<span class="i2">And—had not a word ter say.</span> -<span class="i0">But, Elder, that war n’t the last I saw</span> -<span class="i2">Of that little black pet of our’n,</span> -<span class="i0">For two months later, when we’d come down</span> -<span class="i2">Agin, and one day war scourin’—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Erbout for game, in a swamp n’ar by</span> -<span class="i2">The slimy thief I once more saw!</span> -<span class="i0">Liftin’ my rifle, I lodg’d a ball</span> -<span class="i2">Right under his uplifted jaw.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -<span class="i0">In them days I war reckon’d a shot,</span> -<span class="i2">And, ye may bet, the critter died:</span> -<span class="i0">Then over on his back we turn’d him,</span> -<span class="i2">And bergun ter rermove his hide.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While this war doin’ I heer’d a bark</span> -<span class="i2">Of a dorg, what appear’d quite near!</span> -<span class="i0">’Twar so much like Fanny’s, with my sleeve</span> -<span class="i2">I—jist brush’d from my cheek a tear!</span> -<span class="i0">Wal, when we had cut the varment open—</span> -<span class="i2">Ye won’t berlieve it, but it’s true</span> -<span class="i0">As any story I’ve ever told,</span> -<span class="i2">My Fanny jump’d squar inter view!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, arter her came three pretty purps—</span> -<span class="i2">Exact picters of thar mother!</span> -<span class="i0">We ply’d our knives agin in the flesh,</span> -<span class="i2">And then unkiver’d another!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Ye see, I had rerkiver’d my pet,</span> -<span class="i2">What brought back a numerous crop</span> -<span class="i0">Of young dogs; now if I hain’t match’d ye,</span> -<span class="i2">Why, Elder, I’ll gen’rously stop!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, wait a bit; a few more inches</span> -<span class="i2">We come ter somethin’ kinder hard,</span> -<span class="i0">That our sharpest blades would not go through,</span> -<span class="i2">And then old Samuel Bard</span> -<span class="i0">Pick’d up a hatchet and whack’d erway</span> -<span class="i2"><i>Until he came ter some spruce lorgs,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That, bein’ unkiver’d, dersplay’d ter view</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The kennel of them little dorgs</i>!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_02.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="120" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">Old Tom Gin.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_tom_gin.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="75" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_a.jpg" width="42" height="69" alt="A" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">A “SMILE” is it, Hank Rowland,</span> -<span class="i6">Ye invite me ter take,</span> -<span class="i0">At the bar of Pete Moody,</span> -<span class="i2">Jist for the old time sake,</span> -<span class="i2">And ter keep me erwake?</span> -<span class="i0">A smile of th’ distillation</span> -<span class="i2">Of hell that is call’d Gin,—</span> -<span class="i0">The nectar of the devils!</span> -<span class="i2">The vile parent of sin,</span> -<span class="i2">What many waller in?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I don’t like ter ’pear ’fensive,</span> -<span class="i2">My friend Hank, but jist think</span> -<span class="i0">The temptation ye set me</span> -<span class="i2">When ye ax me ter drink!</span> -<span class="i2">No, no! from it I shrink!</span> -<span class="i0">Time war when a poor toper</span> -<span class="i2">I reel’d erbout the place,</span> -<span class="i0">A wretched victim of rum,</span> -<span class="i2">That so many embrace</span> -<span class="i2">Ter thar lastin’ disgrace!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hank, I’ll tell ye a story</span> -<span class="i2">What’s call’d ter my mind</span> -<span class="i0">When I come any whar n’ar</span> -<span class="i2">This great curse of mankind</span> -<span class="i2">With which stomachs are lin’d!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -<span class="i0">It makes me blush for the past,</span> -<span class="i2">The ’nebriate I’ve been,</span> -<span class="i0">When I think of the enemy—</span> -<span class="i2">The inciter ter sin—</span> -<span class="i2">They have christen’d “Tom Gin.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I war marri’d, Hank Rowland,</span> -<span class="i2">A likelier young chap</span> -<span class="i0">Ye couldn’t find anywhar</span> -<span class="i2">This side Cumberland Gap,</span> -<span class="i2">For I tuk no “night cap.”</span> -<span class="i0">My wife, she war a Christian,</span> -<span class="i2">And a true wife war she;</span> -<span class="i0">And God rain’d down His blessin’s</span> -<span class="i2">On Malinder and me,</span> -<span class="i2">With a hand that war free.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She bore me three fine children—</span> -<span class="i2">Two fair gals and a boy—</span> -<span class="i0">Whose soft chirrupin’ voices</span> -<span class="i2">Fill’d the cabin with joy</span> -<span class="i2">And love without erloy.</span> -<span class="i0">When the honeymoon pars’d</span> -<span class="i2">And love seem’d ter grow cold,</span> -<span class="i0">I stray’d down ter the tavern,—</span> -<span class="i2">Thar squander’d my gold,</span> -<span class="i2">And nerglected the fold—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whar my sunny-ha’r’d treasurs</span> -<span class="i2">Gather’d ’bout my wife’s side,</span> -<span class="i0">As she teech’d ’em of the Lord</span> -<span class="i2">Who on Calvary died,</span> -<span class="i2">And for orphans pervide.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -<span class="i0">As she told them of Heaven,</span> -<span class="i2">And repeated that pra’r</span> -<span class="i0">Of the Sevior of the world—</span> -<span class="i2">So erquented with car’—</span> -<span class="i2">They never saw me thar!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hank Rowland, I’m ershem’d</span> -<span class="i2">Ter admit it; but, still,</span> -<span class="i0">It may do another good</span> -<span class="i2">Ter warn him of what’ll kill,</span> -<span class="i2">And I swow that I will;</span> -<span class="i0">For, ye see, thar is many</span> -<span class="i2">Jist like me ’round here</span> -<span class="i0">Turnin’ erway from thar homes</span> -<span class="i2">When the smiles diserpear,</span> -<span class="i2">’Cause thar wedded ter beer!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wal, down here ter the tavern,</span> -<span class="i2">As a matter of course</span> -<span class="i0">I found many good fellers</span> -<span class="i2">Who’d not any rermorse,</span> -<span class="i2">And did not seem advarse</span> -<span class="i0">Ter a toddy or a smoke,</span> -<span class="i2">A yarn or a story,</span> -<span class="i0">Of Ingen fights on the Plains,</span> -<span class="i2">And conflicts quite gory,</span> -<span class="i2">In sarch of mere glory.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hank, them times war attractive,</span> -<span class="i2">And I drank like the rest;</span> -<span class="i0">As months pars’d it grew on me,</span> -<span class="i2">Till I swigg’d with the best—</span> -<span class="i2">Pour’d it down with a zest.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Then reelin’ home late at night</span> -<span class="i2">The little ones would creep</span> -<span class="i0">Erway ter Merlinder’s room</span> -<span class="i2">With thar mother ter weep</span> -<span class="i2">In vain effort ter sleep!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As years pars’d I grew keerless—</span> -<span class="i2">My farm went ter the duce—</span> -<span class="i0">And I hurl’d at my treasures—</span> -<span class="i2">Thinkin’ I had excuse—</span> -<span class="i2">Vile curses and erbuse!</span> -<span class="i0">One night I went home much later</span> -<span class="i2">And prepar’d ter rertire;</span> -<span class="i0">In my drink I upset the lamp—</span> -<span class="i2">Then the house war afire,</span> -<span class="i2">And my terror war dire!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stagger’d out ter the yard</span> -<span class="i2">And call’d for help. Ter late!</span> -<span class="i0">They got out all my children</span> -<span class="i2">But baby—little Kate—</span> -<span class="i2">Who met a dreadful fate!</span> -<span class="i0">The next mornin’, when sober’d,</span> -<span class="i2">I found my infant dead,—</span> -<span class="i0">Her body charr’d and blackened—</span> -<span class="i2">Her death war on my head!</span> -<span class="i2">My love for whisky fled?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Berside that rough pine coffin</span> -<span class="i2">I knelt me down and wept,</span> -<span class="i0">And register’d a vow thar,</span> -<span class="i2">Whar little Katey slept,</span> -<span class="i2">Hank Rowland, I have kept!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -<span class="i0">’Twar this: never ter touch it—</span> -<span class="i2">This stuff they have nam’d Gin,</span> -<span class="i0">What’s draggin’ others ter whar</span> -<span class="i2">I, findin’ out my sin,</span> -<span class="i2">Rerfus’d ter suck it in!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A smile is it, Hank Rowland,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye invite me ter take,</span> -<span class="i0">At the bar of Pete Moody,</span> -<span class="i2">Jist for the old time sake,</span> -<span class="i2">And ter keep me erwake?</span> -<span class="i0">No, Hank, none of it for me!</span> -<span class="i2">’Twould make the engels groan</span> -<span class="i0">Ter see me touch it. I pars!</span> -<span class="i2">(Rather be cheng’d ter stone)</span> -<span class="i2">Jist run the hand alone!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> -<h2 class="not-vis"><span class="smcap">The Sign of Joe Ball.</span></h2> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_joe_ball.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="81" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_e.jpg" width="45" height="68" alt="E" /> - <p><br /></p> -</div> -<span class="i0-d drop-cap">ED Colby, yer noted for yer stories</span> -<span class="i6">What are marvelous, while thar true,</span> -<span class="i0">And I know ye’ll relish a good one,</span> -<span class="i2">So I will rercite it ter you.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A few nights ago I kinder crav’d for</span> -<span class="i2">A small morsel of sassage meat,</span> -<span class="i0">And, jist seizin’ my hat from the mantel,</span> -<span class="i2">I hurri’d out inter the street.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the shop of Joe Ball I diskiver’d</span> -<span class="i2">Some what look’d superbly nice;</span> -<span class="i0">The stamps war put down, and them sassages</span> -<span class="i2">War mine at a nomernal price.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I carri’d them ter my house in triumph,</span> -<span class="i2">Without gettin’ scratch’d in the least,</span> -<span class="i0">And, sev’rin’ some, waited for daylight</span> -<span class="i2">Ter enjoy a savory feast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I war up with the crow of the rooster,</span> -<span class="i2">And went for my sassages straight.</span> -<span class="i0">I be gol durn’d if one wasn’t purrin’,</span> -<span class="i2">And rubbin’ himself ’gin the gate!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another had crawl’d ter the parlor,</span> -<span class="i2">Whar he crouched down and purr’d,</span> -<span class="i0">And wistfully watch’d a wire cage</span> -<span class="i2">Whar slumber’d my favorite bird!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two others I found in the coal cellar,</span> -<span class="i2">Anxiously layin’ for rats:</span> -<span class="i0">While another had her head in a pitcher</span> -<span class="i2">Whar wife kept the milk for the cats!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I next look’d erbout for the balance,</span> -<span class="i2">And, an oath I thar gave vent ter.</span> -<span class="i0">Though thar tails war tied they war creepin’</span> -<span class="i2">Erway from a common center!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I survey’d ’em, and they look’d at me</span> -<span class="i2">From out thar harf-closed eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">As one of ’em told me that thar mother</span> -<span class="i2">Had been chopp’d up inter pies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The poor little orphans implor’d me</span> -<span class="i2">Thar infantile lives ter spar’;</span> -<span class="i0">But I had sich a feline mernagerie,</span> -<span class="i2">That I flatly rerfus’d thar pra’r.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That mornin’ I miss’d my fav’rite rerpast</span> -<span class="i2">Of fried sassages, ter be sure;</span> -<span class="i0">But I had the satersfaction ter see</span> -<span class="i2">The whole lot drown’d in the sewar!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whenever ye see the sign of Joe Ball,</span> -<span class="i2">Be car’ful not ter enter his lair,</span> -<span class="i0">For he prides himself upon his choice stock</span> -<span class="i2 space-below3">Of kitten spic’d sassage and hair.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illo_03.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="140" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="f300 break-before"><b>“THE TABLE,”</b></p> - -<p class="center">BARRY GRAY, <span class="smcap">Editor</span>,</p> - -<p class="f200"><b>A MONTHLY MAGAZINE,</b></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Devoted exclusively to subjects connected with the -Pleasures of the Table, the Science of Cooking, and the Art of Good -Living</i>.</p> - -<p class="f120 space-above1 space-below1"><b>PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE WORK.</b></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Table</span> <i>will contain short essays on Breakfasts, -Dinners & Teas, Wines, Fruits & Confections</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>It will have its Breakfast Table Chat, its Dinner -Table Talk, and its Tea Table Gossip.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Housekeepers and Cooks will find in it recipes for -the making of new, rare and savory dishes. A Bill of Fare, appropriate -for the season, will appear in each number. Accounts of Public -Banquets, Dinner Parties, etc., will be recorded in its pages.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>The form of</i> <span class="smcap">The Table</span> <i>will be a large octavo, -twenty pages to each number</i>.</p> - -<p class="f120 space-above1">TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION:</p> - -<table border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="_" cellpadding="2"> - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>One Copy for One Year,</b></td> - <td class="tdr"><b>$1.00</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>Single Copies,</b></td> - <td class="tdr"><b>10</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><br /></td> - <td class="tdr"><br /><b>M. DOOLADY, Publisher,</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdr"><b><i>98 Nassau Street</i>.</b></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="f120"><b>A New, Revised, Corrected, and Illustrated Edition</b></p> -<p class="center space-above2 space-below2">OF THE</p> -<p class="f200"><b>OLD MERCHANTS</b></p> -<p class="center space-above2 space-below2">OF</p> -<p class="f200"><b>NEW-YORK CITY.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="f150"><b>By WALTER BARRETT, Clerk.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center"><b>In 3 Vols., Crown 8vo, Cloth Extra. Price, $7.50.</b></p> - -<p class="blockquot">Of this work it is truly said “that no more interesting reading -can be found for the growing MERCANTILE mind of the United States than a -history of the LEADING MEN who have laid the foundations of the wealth -and prosperity of its great METROPOLIS.”</p> - -<p class="blockquot">“Valuable as a book of reference.”</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center"><b>THIS BOOK CAN NOT FAIL TO BE</b></p> -<p class="f120"><b>INTERESTING TO EVERY BUSINESS MAN.</b></p> -<p class="center">IT CONTAINS</p> -<p class="f120"><b>UPWARD OF 2000 PROMINENT NAMES.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center space-above1 space-below1"><b>Agents wanted to Sell in all parts of the Country.</b></p> - -<p class="author"><big>M. DOOLADY, Publisher</big>,  </p> -<p class="author"><i>98 Nassau Street</i>.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="f150"><b>The most interesting and thrilling Book of the day.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="f300"><b>PERILS OF THE PERIOD!</b></p> -<p class="f120 space-above2 space-below2">A THRILLING BOOK OF FACTS!</p> - -<p class="f150"><b>By JOSEPH HERTFORD.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="f120"><b>Price, Paper, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00.</b></p> -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<table class="space-above2 space-below2" border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Contents." cellpadding="2" rules="cols" > - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><b><big>CONTENTS.</big></b>  </td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>At Niblo’s by Gaslight.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>Grace Church Morality.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>In a Villain’s Toils.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>Crime in Pantalets.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>Temptations of Hotel Life.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>Striking Pen Portraits.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>A Bust for Ten Cents.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>A Private Post-Office.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>The Perils of Beauty.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>The Amorous Epistle of a Judge.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>A Meeting by Appointment.  </b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>A Woman in Man’s Attire.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><b>Fashionable Society.</b></td> - <td class="tdl"> <b>Fifth Avenue Belles.</b></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><b>From the Heights of Morality to the Rocks of Death.</b></td> - </tr> -</tbody> -</table> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="blockquot">These are some of the subjects and incidents -treated in this startling record of facts. They are unpleasant examples -of vice, error, and criminal guilt, leading souls from the pinnacle -of morality to the degrading depths of sin and ruin; and a complete -<i>exposé</i> of some of the pernicious characters which stalk through this -great city by day and night alike. Fathers, Mothers, Brothers, all -should read it.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote bbox"> -<p class="f120 space-above1">Transcriber's Notes:</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="indent">The cover image was created by the transcriber, and is in the public domain.</p> -<p class="indent">Uncertain or antiquated spellings or ancient words were not corrected.</p> -<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected - unless otherwise noted.</p> -<p class="indent">Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.</p> -<p class="indent">In TOC, page no. for "Bob Munn of Cape Cod" was corrected from 14 to 16.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tar-Heel Tales in Vernacular Verse, by -John E. P. 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