Oh, those sweet old-fashioned posies, that were mother's pride and joy Old Dan'l Hanks he says this town On a log behind the pigsty of a modest little farm Once, by the edge of a pleasant pool Our Aunt 'Mandy thinks that boys Our Sary Emma is possessed ter be at somethin' queer; Pavements a-frying in street and in square Say, I've got a little brother She's little and modest and purty Sometimes when we're in school, and it's the afternoon and late South Pokus is religious,--that's the honest, livin' truth; Summer nights at Grandpa's--ain't they soft and still! Sun like a furnace hung up overhead Sure, Felix McCarty he lived all alone The fog was so thick yer could cut it The spring sun flashes a rapier thrust The tired breezes are tucked to rest To my office window, gray Up in the attic I found them, locked in the cedar chest Want to see me, hey, old chap? _We'd_ never thought of takin' 'em,--'twas Mary Ann's idee,-- When Ezry, that's my sister's son, came home from furrin parts When Papa's sick, my goodness sakes! When the farm work's done, at the set of sun When the great, gray fog comes in, and the damp clouds cloak the shore When the hot summer daylight is dyin' When the Lord breathes his wrath above the bosom of the waters When the tide goes out, how the foam-flakes dance When the toil of day is over When Twilight her soft robe of shadow spreads down Where leap the long Atlantic swells Where the warm spring sunlight, streaming Ye children of the mountain, sing of your craggy peaks You know the story--it's centuries old-- THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cape Cod Ballads, and Other Verse, by Joseph C. Lincoln