The idy! Wadin round here over shoe-mouth deep in woe, When they's a graded 'pike o' joy and sunshine don't you know! When evening strikes the pastur', cows'll pull out fer the bars, And skittish-like from out the night'll prance the happy stars. And so when my time comes to die, and I've got ary friend 'At wants expressed my last request-- I'll mebby, rickommend To drive slow, ef they haf to, goin' 'long the out'ard track, But I'll smile and say, "You speed 'em When the Hearse Comes Back!" _A Canary At the Farm_ Folks has be'n to town, and Sahry Fetched 'er home a pet canary--, And of all the blame', contrary, Aggervatin' things alive! I love music-- that I love it When it's free-- and plenty of it--; But I kindo' git above it, At a dollar-eighty-five! Reason's plain as I'm a-sayin'--, Jes' the idy, now, o' layin' Out yer money, and a-payin' Fer a willer-cage and bird, When the medder-larks is wingin' Round you, and the woods is ringin' With the beautifullest singin' That a mortal ever heard! Sahry's sot, tho'--. So I tell her He's a purty little feller, With his wings o' creamy-yeller, And his eyes keen as a cat; And the twitter o' the critter 'Pears to absolutely glitter! Guess I'll haf to go and git her A high-priceter cage 'n that! _A Liz Town Humorist_ Settin' round the stove, last night, Down at Wess's store, was me And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White, And Doc Bills, and two er three Fellers o' the Mudsock tribe No use tryin' to describe! And says Doc, he says, says he--, "Talkin' 'bout good things to eat, Ripe mushmillon's hard to beat!" I chawed on. And Mart he 'lowed Wortermillon beat the mush--. "Red," he says, "and juicy-- Hush--! I'll jes' leave it to the crowd!" Then a Mudsock chap, says he--, "Punkin's good enough fer me-- Punkin pies, I mean," he says--, Them beats millons--! What say, Wess? I chawed on. And Wess says--, "Well, You jes' fetch that wife of mine All yer wortermillon-rine--, And she'll bile it down a spell-- In with sorghum, I suppose, And what else, Lord only knows--! But I'm here to tell all hands Them p'serves meets my demands!" I chawed on. And White he says--, "Well, I'll jes' stand, in with Wess-- I'm no hog!" And Tunk says--, "I Guess I'll pastur' out on pie With the Mudsock boys!" says he; "Now what's yourn?" he says to me: I chawed on-- fer-- quite a spell Then I speaks up, slow and dry--, Jes' tobacker!" I-says-I--. And you'd ort o' heerd 'em yell! _Kingry's Mill_ On old Brandywine-- about Where White's Lots is now laid out, And the old crick narries down To the ditch that splits the town--, Kingry's Mill stood. Hardly see Where the old dam ust to be; Shallor, long, dry trought o' grass Where the old race ust to pass!