Cape Cod Ballads, and Other Verse | Page 8

circus chap?And drive two lions hitched up like a span;?But, honest, more I think of it, I b'lieve the bestest snap Is jest ter be a school-committee man.

WASTED ENERGY
South Pokus is religious,--that's the honest, livin' truth; South Pokus folks are pious,--man and woman, maid and youth; And they listen every Sunday, though it rains or snows or shines, In their seven shabby churches, ter their seven poor divines, Who dispense the balm and comfort that the thirstin' sperit needs, By a-fittin' of the gospel ter their seven different creeds, Each one sure his road ter Heaven is the only sartin way,-- Fer South Pokus is religious, as I started off ter say.
Now the Pokus population is nine hundred, more or less,?Which, in one big congregation, would be quite a church, I guess, And do lots of good, I reckon; but yer see it couldn't be,-- Long's one's tweedledum was diff'rent from the other's tweedledee. So the Baptists they are Baptists, though the church is swamped in debt, And the Orthodox is rigid, though expenses can't be met,?And the twenty Presbyterians 'll be Calvinists or bust,--?Fer South Pokus is religious, as I said along at fust.
And the Methodist is buried, when his time comes 'round ter die, In the little weedy graveyard where no other sect can lie,?And at Second Advent socials, every other Wednesday night,?No one's ever really welcome but a Second Adventite;?While the Unitarian brother, as he walks the village streets, Seldom bows unless another Unitarian he meets;?And there's only Univers'lists in a Univers'list's store,-- Fer South Pokus is religious, as I think I said before.
I thought I'd read that Jesus come ter do the whole world good,-- Come ter bind the Jew and Gentile in a lovin' brotherhood;?But it seems that I'm mistaken, and I haven't read it right, And the text of "Love your neighbor" must be somewhere written "Fight"; But I want ter tell yer, church folks, and ter put it to yer strong, While you're fighting_ Old Nick's fellers _pull tergether right along: So yer'd better stop your squabblin', be united if yer can, Fer the Pokus way of doin' ain't no use ter God or man.

WHEN THE MINISTER COMES TO TEA
Oh! they've swept the parlor carpet, and they've dusted every chair, And they've got the tidies hangin' jest exactly on the square; And the what-not's fixed up lovely, and the mats have all been beat, And the pantry's brimmin' over with the bully things ter eat; Sis has got her Sunday dress on, and she's frizzin' up her bangs; Ma's got on her best alpacky, and she's askin' how it hangs; Pa has shaved as slick as can be, and I'm rigged way up in G,-- And it's all because we're goin' ter have the minister ter tea.
[Illustration]
Oh! the table's fixed up gaudy with the gilt-edged chiny set, And we'll use the silver tea-pot and the comp'ny spoons, you bet; And we're goin' ter have some fruit-cake and some thimbleberry jam, And "riz biscuits," and some doughnuts, and some chicken, and some ham. Ma, she'll 'polergize like fury and say everything is bad,?And "Sich awful luck with cookin'," she is sure she never had; But, er course, she's only bluffin', for it's as prime as it can be, And she's only talkin' that way 'cause the minister's ter tea.
Everybody'll be a-smilin' and as good as ever was,?Pa won't growl about the vittles, like he generally does,?And he'll ask me would I like another piece er pie; but, sho! That, er course, is only manners, and I'm s'posed ter answer "No." Sis'll talk about the church-work and about the Sunday-school, Ma'll tell how she liked that sermon that was on the Golden Rule, And if I upset my tumbler they won't say a word ter me:--?Yes, a boy can eat in comfort with the minister ter tea!
Say! a minister, you'd reckon, never 'd say what wasn't true; But that isn't so with ours, and I jest can prove it, too;?'Cause when Sis plays on the organ so it makes yer want ter die, Why, he sets and says it's lovely; and that, seems ter me, 's a lie: But I like him all the samey, and I only wish he'd stay?At our house fer good and always, and eat with us every day; Only think of havin' goodies every_ evenin'! Jimmi_nee!?And I'd never git a scoldin' with the minister ter tea!

"YAP"
I've got a little yaller dog, a wuthless kind of chap,?Who jest ain't good fer nothin' but ter eat and sleep and "yap." Fer all 'round general wuthlessness I never see his beat,?And yet he makes more fuss and noise than all the farm complete. There ain't a mite of sense inside that yaller hide of his; But, as he ain't no good, he likes