Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BUD'S FAIRY TALE, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Some peoples thinks they ain't no fairies now Last Line: Fer-certain fact an' cwoss my heart it is! Alternate Author Name(s): Johnson Of Boone, Benj. F. Subject(s): Fairies; Elves | ||||||||
SOME peoples thinks they ain't no Fairies now No more yet! -- But they is, I bet! 'Cause ef They wuzn't Fairies, nen I'like to know Who'd w'ite 'bout Fairies in the books, an' tell What Fairies does, an' how their picture looks, An' all an' ever'thing! W'y, ef they don't Be Fairies any more, nen little boys 'Ud ist sleep when they go to sleep an' won't Have ist no dweams at all, -- 'cause Fairies -- good Fairies -- they're a-purpose to make dweams! But they is Fairies -- an' I know they is! 'Cause one time wunst, when it's all Summer-time, An' don't haf to be no fires in the stove Er fireplace to keep warm wiv -- ner don't haf To wear old scwatchy flannen shirts at all, An' ain't no fweeze -- ner cold -- ner snow! -- An' -- an' Old skweeky twees got all the gween leaves on An' ist keeps noddin', noddin' all the time, Like they 'uz lazy an' a-twyin' to go To sleep an' couldn't, 'cause the wind won't quit A-blowin' in 'em, an' the birds won't stop A-singin', so's they kin. -- But twees don't sleep, I guess! But little boys sleeps -- an' dweams, too. -- An' that's a sign they's Fairies. So, one time, When I be'n playin' "Store" wunst over in The shed of their old stable, an' Ed Howard He maked me quit a-bein' pardners, 'cause I dwinked the 'tend-like sody-water up An' et the shore-'nuff crackers, -- w'y, nen I Clumbed over in our garden where the gwapes Wuz purt' nigh ripe: An' I wuz ist a-layin' There on th' old cwooked seat 'at Pa maked in Our arber, -- an' so I 'uz layin' there A-whittlin' beets wiv my new dog-knife, an' A-lookin' wite up thue the twimbly leaves -- An' wuzn't 'sleep at all! -- An'-sir! -- first thing You know, a little Fairy hopped out there! -- A leetle-teenty Fairy! -- hope-may-die! An' he look' down at me, he did -- an' he Ain't bigger'n a yellerbird! -- an' he Say "Howdy-do!" he did -- an' I could hear Him -- ist as plain! Nen I say "Howdy-do!" An' he say "I'm all hunky, Nibsey; how Is your folks comin' on?" An' nen I say "My name ain't 'Nibsey,' neever -- my name's Bud. -- An' what's your name?" I says to him. An' he Ist laugh an' say, "'Bud's awful funny name!" An' he ist laid back on a big bunch o' gwapes An' laugh' an' laugh', he did -- like somebody 'Uz tick-el-un his feet! An' nen I say -- "What's your name," nen I say, "afore you bu'st Yo-se'fa-laughin' bout my name?" I says. An' nen he dwy up laughin' -- kind o' mad -- An' say, "W'y, my name's Squidjicum," he says. An' nen I laugh an' say -- "Gee! what a name!" An' when I make fun of his name, like that, He ist git awful mad an' spunky, an' 'Fore you know, he gwabbed holt of a vine -- A big long vine 'at's danglin' up there, an' He ist helt on wite tight to that, an' down He swung quick past my face, he did, an' ist Kicked at me hard's he could! But I'm too quick Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out An' ketched him, in my hand -- an' helt him, too, An' squeezed him, ist like little wobins when They can't fly yet an' git flopped out their nest. An' nen I turn him all wound over, an' Look at him clos't, you know -- wite clos't -- cause ef He is a Fairy, w'y, I want to see The wings he's got. -- But he's dwessed up so fine 'At I can't see no wings. -- An' all the time He's twyin' to kick me yet: An' so I take F'esh holts an' squeeze ag'in -- an' harder, too; An' I says, "Hold up, Mr. Squidjicum! -- You're kickin' the w'ong man!" I says; an' nen I ist squeeze' him, purt' night my best, I did -- An' I heerd somepin' bu'st! -- An' nen he cwied An' says, "You better look out what you're doin'! -- You' bu'st my spider-web suspenners, an' You' got my wose-leaf coat all cwinkled up So's I can't go to old Miss Hoodjicum's Tea-party, 's afternoon!" An' nen I says -- "Who's 'old Miss Hoodjicum'?" I says. An' he Says, "Ef you lemme loose I'll tell you." So I helt the little skeezics 'way fur out In one hand -- so's he can't jump down t' th' ground Wivout a-gittin' all stove up: an' nen I says, "You're loose now. -- Go ahead an' tell 'Bout the 'tea-party' where you're goin' at So awful fast!" I says. An' nen he say, -- "No use to tell you 'bout it, 'cause you won't Believe it, 'less you go there your own se'f An' see it wiv your own two eyes!" he says. An' he says: "Ef you lemme shore-'nuff loose, An' p'omise 'at you'll keep wite still, an' won't Tetch nothin' 'at you see -- an' never tell Nobody in the world -- n' lemme loose -- W'y, nen I'll take you there!" But I says, "Yes An' ef I let you loose, you'll run!" I says. An' he says, "No, I won't! -- I hope-may-die!" Nen I says, "Cwoss your heart you won't!" An' he Ist cwoss his heart; an' nen I reach an' set The little feller up on a long vine -- An' he 'uz so tickled to git lose ag'in, He gwab the vine wiv boff his little hands An' ist take an' turn in, he did, an' skin 'Bout forty-'leben cats! Nen when he git Thue whirlin' wound the vine, an' set on top Of it ag'in, w'y, nen his "wose-leaf coat" He bwag so much about, it's ist all tored Up, an' ist hangin' strips an' rags -- so he Look like his Pa's a dwunkard. An' so nen When he see what he's done -- a-actin' up So smart, -- he's awful mad, I guess; an' ist Pout out his lips an' twis' his little face Ist ugly as he kin, an' set an' tear His whole coat off -- an' sleeves an' all. -- An' nen He wad it all togevver an' ist th'ow It at me ist as hard as he kin dwive! An' when I weach to ketch him, an' 'uz goin' To give him 'nuvver squeezin', he ist flewed Clean up on top the arbor! -- 'Cause, you know, They wuz wings on him -- when he tored his coat Clean off -- they wuz wings under there. But they Wuz purty wobbly-like an' wouldn't work Hardly at all -- 'cause purty soon, when I Th'owed clods at him, an' sticks, an' got him shooed Down off o' there, he come a-floppin' down An' lit k-bang! on our old chicken-coop, An' ist laid there a-whimper'n' like a child! An' I tiptoed up wite clos't, an' I says, "What's The matter wiv ye, Squidjicum?" An' he Says: "Dog-gone! when my wings gits stwaight ag'in, Where you all crumpled 'em," he says, "I bet I'll ist fly clean away, an' won't take you To old Miss Hoodjicum's at all!" he says. An' nen I ist weach out wite quick, I did, An' gwab the sassy little snipe ag'in -- Nen tooked my top-stwing an' tie down his wings So's he can't fly, 'less'n I want him to! An' nen I says: "Now, Mr. Squidjicum, You better ist light out," I says, "to old Miss Hoodjicum's, an' show me how to git There, too," I says; "er ef you don't," I says, "I'll climb up wiv you on our buggy-shed An' push you off!" I says. An' nen he say All wite, he'll show me there; an' tell me nen To set him down wite easy on his feet, An' loosen up the stwing a little where It cut him under th' arms. An' nen he says, "Come on!" he says; an' went a-limpin' 'long The garden-paph -- an' limpin' 'long an' 'long Tel -- purty soon he come on 'long to where's A grea'-big cabbage-leaf. An' he stoop down An' say, "Come on inunder here wiv me!" So I stoop down an' crawl inunder there, Like he say. An' inunder there's a grea'- Big clod, they is -- a' awful grea'-big clod! An' nen he says, "Woll this-here clod away!" An' so I woll' the clod away. An' nen It's all wet, where the dew'z inunder where The old clod wuz. -- An' nen the Fairy he Git on the wet-place: Nen he say to me, "Git on the wet-place, too!" An' nen he say, "Now hold yer breff an' shet yer eyes!" he says, "Tel I say Squinchy-winchy!" Nen he say -- Somepin' in Dutch, I guess. -- An' nen I felt Like we 'uz sinkin' down -- an' sinkin' down! -- Tel purty soon the little Fairy weach An' pinch my nose an' yell at me an' say, "Squinchy-winchy! Look wherever you please!" Nen when I looked -- Oh! they 'uz purtiest place Down there you ever saw in all the World! -- They 'uz ist flowers an' woses -- yes, an' twees Wiv blossoms on an' big wipe apples boff! An' butterflies, they wuz -- an' hummin'-birds -- An' yellerbirds an' bluebirds -- yes, an' wed! -- An' ever'wheres an' all awound 'uz vines Wiv wipe p'serve-pears on 'em! -- Yes, an' all An' ever'thing 'at's ever growin' in A garden -- er canned up -- all wipe at wunst! -- It wuz ist like a garden -- only it 'Uz ist a little bit o' garden -- 'bout big wound As ist our twun'el-bed is. -- An' all wound An' wound the little garden's a gold fence -- An' little gold gate, too -- an' ash-hopper 'At's all gold, too -- an' ist full o' gold ashes! An' wite in th' middle o' the garden wuz A little gold house, 'at's ist 'bout as big As ist a bird-cage is: An' in the house They 'uz whole-lots more Fairies there -- 'cause I Picked up the little house, an' peeked in at The winders, an' I see 'em all in there Ist buggin' round! An' Mr. Squidjicum He twy to make me quit, but I gwab him An' poke him down the chimbly, too, I did! -- An' y'ort to see him hop out 'mongst 'em there! -- Ist like he 'uz the boss an' ist got back! -- "Hain't ye got on them-air dew-dump lin's yet?" He says. An' they says no. An' nen he says -- "Better git at 'em nen!" he says, "wite quick -- 'Cause old Miss Hoodjicum's a-comin'!" Nen They all set wound a little gold tub -- an' All 'menced a-peelin' dewdwops, ist like they 'Uz peaches. -- An', it looked so funny, I Ist laugh' out loud, an' dwopped the little house, An' 't bu'sted like a soap-bubble! -- an' 't skeered Me so, I -- I -- I, -- it skeered me so, -- I -- ist waked up. -- No! I ain't be'n asleep An' dweam it all, like you think, -- but it's shore Fer-certain fact an' cwoss my heart it is! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAERY FOREST by SARA TEASDALE THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE FAIRIES by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE FAIRY CHILD by JOHN ANSTER THE FORSAKEN MERMAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE LITTLE ELF-MAN by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 19. THE FAIRY QUEEN PROSERPINA by THOMAS CAMPION A PROPER NEW BALLAD [ENTITLED THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL] by RICHARD CORBET A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY |
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