Though I'm wrinkelder, older and grayer Right now than my parents was then, You strike up that song "Do They Miss Me," And I'm jest a youngster again!-- I'm a-standin' back thare in the furries A-wishin' fer evening to come, And a-whisperin' over and over Them words "Do They Miss Me at Home?" You see, _Marthy Ellen she_ sung it The first time I heerd it; and so, As she was my very first sweethart, It reminds me of her, don't you know;-- How her face ust to look, in the twilight, As I tuck her to Spellin'; and she Kep' a-hummin' that song tel I ast her, Pine-blank, ef she ever missed _me_! I can shet my eyes now, as you sing it, And hear her low answerin' words; And then the glad chirp of the crickets, As clear as the twitter of birds; And the dust in the road is like velvet, And the ragweed and fennel and grass Is as sweet as the scent of the lillies Of Eden of old, as we pass. "_Do They Miss Me at Home?_" Sing it lower-- And softer--and sweet as the breeze That powdered our path with the snowy White bloom of the old locus'-trees! Let the whipperwills he'p you to sing it, And the echoes 'way over the hill, Tel the moon boolges out, in a chorus Of stars, and our voices is still. But oh! "They's a chord in the music That's missed when _her_ voice is away!" Though I listen from midnight tel morning, And dawn tel the dusk of the day! And I grope through the dark, lookin' up'ards And on through the heavenly dome, With my longin' soul singin' and sobbin' The words "Do They Miss Me at Home?" "COON-DOG WESS" "Coon-dog Wess"--he allus went 'Mongst us here by that-air name. Moved in this-here Settlement From next county--he laid claim,-- Lived down in the bottoms--whare _Ust_ to be some coons in thare!-- In nigh Clayton's, next the crick,-- Mind old Billy ust to say Coons in thare was jest that thick, He'p him corn-plant any day!-- And, in rostneer-time, be then Aggin' him to plant again! Well,--In Spring o' '67, This-here "Coon-dog Wess" he come-- Fetchin' 'long 'bout forty-'leven Ornriest-lookin' hounds, I gum! Ever mortul-man laid eyes On sence dawn o' Christian skies! Wife come traipsin' at the rag- Tag-and-bobtail of the crowd, Dogs and childern, with a bag Corn-meal and some side-meat,--_Proud_ And as _independunt_--_My!_-- Yit a mild look in her eye. Well--this "Coon-dog Wess" he jest Moved in that-air little pen Of a pole-shed, aidgin' west On "The Slues o' Death," called then.-- Otter- and mink-hunters ust To camp thare 'fore game vam-moosd.