8 March ain't never nothin' new--! Aprile's altogether too Brash fer me! And May-- I jes' 'Bominate its promises--, Little hints o' sunshine and Green around the timber-land-- A few blossoms, and a few Chip-birds, and a sprout er two--, Drap asleep, and it turns in 'Fore daylight and snows ag'in--! But when June comes-- Clear my th'oat With wild honey--! Rench my hair In the dew! And hold my coat! Whoop out loud! And th'ow my hat--! June wants me, and I'm to spare! Spread them shadders anywhere, I'll git down and waller there, And obleeged to you at that! _When The Hearse Comes Back_ A thing 'at's 'bout as tryin' as a healthy man kin meet Is some poor feller's funeral a-joggin' 'long the street: The slow hearse and the hosses-- slow enough, to say at least, Fer to even tax the patience of gentleman deceased! The low scrunch of the gravel-- and the slow grind of the wheels--, The slow, slow go of ev'ry woe 'at ev'rybody feels! So I ruther like the contrast when I hear the whip-lash crack A quickstep fer the hosses, When the Hearse Comes Back! Meet it goin' to'rds the cimet'ry, you'll want to drap yer eyes-- But ef the plumes don't fetch you, it'll ketch you otherwise-- You'll haf to see the caskit, though you'd ort to look away And 'conomize and save yer sighs fer any other day! Yer sympathizin' won't wake up the sleeper from his rest-- Yer tears won't thaw them hands o' his 'at's froze acrost his breast! And this is why-- when airth and sky's a gittin blurred and black-- I like the flash and hurry When the Hearse Comes Back! It's not 'cause I don't 'preciate it ain't no time fer jokes, Ner 'cause I' got no common human feelin' fer the folks--; I've went to funerals myse'f, and tuk on some, perhaps-- Fer my hearth's 'bout as mal'able as any other chap's--, I've buried father, mother-- But I'll haf to jes' git you To "excuse me," as the feller says--. The p'int I'm drivin' to Is simply when we're plum broke down and all knocked out o' whack, It he'ps to shape us up like, When the Hearse Comes Back!