Riley Farm-Rhymes | Page 3

foller up the
plow--?Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not
a-carin' how;?So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the
wing--?But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:?And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,?She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest;?And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin'
right,?Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite!
They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day,?And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,?And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener
still;?It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will.?Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded
out,?And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt;?But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,?Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet!
Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and
dry?Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky??Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way,?Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day??Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?--Does he walk, er does
he run??Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare just like they've
allus done??Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er
voice??Ort a mortul be complainin' when dumb animals rejoice?
Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot;?The June is here this morning, and the sun is shining hot.?Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day,?And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away!?Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,?Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;?Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,?And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me
and you.
"MYLO JONES'S WIFE"
"Mylo Jones's wife" was all?I heerd, mighty near, last Fall--?Visitun relations down?T'other side of Morgantown!?Mylo Jones's wife she does?This and that, and "those" and "thus"!--?Can't 'bide babies in her sight--?Ner no childern, day and night,?Whoopin' round the premises--?NER NO NOTHIN' ELSE, I guess!
Mylo Jones's wife she 'lows?She's the boss of her own house!--?Mylo--consequences is--?Stays whare things seem SOME like HIS,--?Uses, mostly, with the stock--?Coaxin' "Old Kate" not to balk,?Ner kick hoss-flies' branes out, ner?Act, I s'pose, so much like HER!?Yit the wimmern-folks tells you?She's PERFECTION.--Yes they do!
Mylo's wife she says she's found?Home hain't home with MEN-FOLKS round?When they's work like HERN to doPicklin'?pears and BUTCHERN, too,?And a-rendern lard, and then?Cookin' fer a pack of men?To come trackin' up the flore?SHE'S scrubbed TEL she'll scrub no MORE!--?Yit she'd keep things clean ef they?Made her scrub tel Jedgmunt Day!
Mylo Jones's wife she sews?Carpet-rags and patches clothes?Jest year IN and OUT!--and yit?Whare's the livin' use of it??She asts Mylo that.--And he?Gits back whare he'd ruther be,?With his team;--jest PLOWS--and don't?Never sware--like some folks won't!?Think ef HE'D CUT LOOSE, I gum!?'D he'p his heavenly chances some!
Mylo's wife don't see no use,?Ner no reason ner excuse?Fer his pore relations to?Hang round like they allus do!?Thare 'bout onc't a year--and SHE--?She jest GA'NTS 'em, folks tells me,?On spiced pears!--Pass Mylo one,?He says "No, he don't chuse none!"?Workin'men like Mylo they?'D ort to have MEAT ev'ry day!
Dad-burn Mylo Jones's wife!?Ruther rake a blame caseknife?'Crost my wizzen than to see?Sich a womern rulin' ME!--?Ruther take and turn in and?Raise a fool mule-colt by hand'?MYLO, though--od-rot the man!--?Jest keeps ca'm--like some folks CAN--?And 'lows sich as her, I s'pose,?Is MAN'S HE'PMEET'--Mercy knows!
HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM
Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and
John,?Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time
comes on,--?And THEN, I want to say to you, we NEEDED he'p about,?As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned
out!
A better quarter-section ner a richer soil warn't found?Than this-here old-home place o' ourn fer fifty miles
around!--?The house was small--but plenty-big we found it from
the day?That John--our only livin' son--packed up and went
away.
You see, we tuk sich pride in John--his mother more'n
me--?That's natchurul; but BOTH of us was proud as proud
could be;?Fer the boy, from a little chap, was most oncommon
bright,?And seemed in work as well as play to take the same delight.
He allus went a-whistlin' round the place, as glad at heart As robins up at five o'clock to git an airly start;?And many a time 'fore daylight Mother's waked me up
to say--?"Jest listen, David!--listen!--Johnny's beat the birds
to-day!"
High-sperited from boyhood, with a most inquirin' turn,--?He wanted to learn ever'thing on earth they was to learn:?He'd ast more plaguy questions in a mortal-minute here?Than his grandpap in Paradise could answer in a year!
And READ! w'y, his own mother learnt him how to read
and spell;?And "The Childern of the Abbey"--w'y, he knowed that
book as well?At fifteen as his parents!--and "The Pilgrim's Progress,"
too--?Jest knuckled down, the shaver did, and read 'em through
and through.
At eighteen, Mother 'lowed the