THE OLD BAND by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

IT'S mighty good to git back to the old town, shore,
Considerin' I've b'en away twenty year and more.
Sence I moved then to Kansas, of course I see a change,
A-comin' back, and notice things that's new to me and strange;
Especially at evening when yer new band-fellers meet,
In fancy uniforms and all, and play out on the street --
. . . What's come of old Bill Lindsey and the Saxhorn fellers -- say?
I want to hear the @3old@1 band play.

What's come of Eastman, and Nat Snow? And where's War Barnett at?
And Nate and Bony Meek; Bill Hart; Tom Richa'son and that
Air brother of him played the drum as twic't as big as Jim;
And old Hi Kerns, the carpenter -- say, what's become o' him?
I make no doubt yer @3new band@1 now's a @3competenter@1 band,
And plays their music more by note than what they play by hand,
And stylisher and grander tunes; but somehow -- @3any@1way,
I want to hear the @3old@1 band play.

Sich tunes as "John Brown's Body" and "Sweet Alice," don't you know;
And "The Camels Is A-Comin'," and "John Anderson, My Jo";
And a dozent others of 'em -- "Number Nine" and "Number 'Leven"
Was favo-@3rites@1 that fairly made a feller dream o' Heaven.
And when the boys 'u'd saranade, I've laid so still in bed
I've even heerd the locus'-blossoms droppin' on the shed
When "Lilly Dale," er "Hazel Dell," had sobbed and died away --
. . . I want to hear the @3old@1 band play.

Yer @3new@1 band ma'by beats it, but the @3old band's@1 what I said --
It allus 'peared to kind o' chord with somepin' in my head;
And, whilse I'm no musicianer, when my blame' eyes is jes'
Nigh drownded out, and Mem'ry squares her jaws and sort o' says
She @3won't@1 ner @3never will@1 fergit, I want to jes' turn in
And take and light right out o' here and git back West ag'in
And @3stay@1 there, when I git there, where I never haf' to say
I want to hear the @3old@1 band play.

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