SO you've kem 'yer agen, And one answer won't do? Well, of all the derned men That I've struck, it is you. O Sal! 'yer's that derned fool from Simpson's, cavortin' round 'yer in the dew. Kem in, ef you will. Thar, -- quit! Take a cheer. Not that; you can't fill Them theer cushings this year, -- For that cheer was my old man's, Joe Simpson, and they don't make such men about 'yer. He was tall, was my Jack, And as strong as a tree. Thar's his gun on the rack, -- Jest you heft it, and see. And you come a courtin' his widder. Lord! where can that critter, Sal, be! You'd fill my Jack's place? And a man of your size, -- With no baird to his face, Nor a snap to his eyes, -- And nary -- Sho! thar! I was foolin', -- I was, Joe, for sartain, -- don't rise. Sit down. Law! why, sho! I'm as weak as a gal, Sal! Don't you go, Joe, Or I'll faint, -- sure, I shall. Sit down, -- anywheer, where you like, Joe, -- in that cheer, if you choose, -- Lord, where's Sal! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 16 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL MAPLE AND SUMACH by CECIL DAY LEWIS GRACE FOR CHILDREN by ROBERT HERRICK WHICH WAS MOST TRULY DEAD? by CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE DICK, A MAGGOT by JONATHAN SWIFT PLAYING IT SAFE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |