WINTER-TIME, er Summertime, Of late years I notice I'm, Kind o' like, more subjec' to What the @3weather@1 is. Now, @3you@1 Folks 'at lives in @3town,@1 I s'pose, Thinks it's bully when it snows; But the chap 'at chops and hauls Yer wood fer ye, and then stalls, And snapps tuggs and swingletrees, And then has to walk er freeze, Hain't so much "stuck @3on"@1 the snow As stuck @3in@1 it -- Bless ye, no! -- When it's packed, and sleighin' 's good, And @3church@1 in the neighberhood, Them 'at's @3got@1 their girls, I guess, Takes 'em, likely, more er less. Tell the plain fac's o' the case, No men-folks about our place On'y me and Pap -- and he 'Lows 'at young folks' company Allus made him sick! So I Jes' don't want, and jes' don't try! Chinkypin, the dad-burn town, 'S too fur off to loaf aroun' Eether day er night -- and no Law compellin' me to go! -- 'Less'n some Old-Settlers' Day, Er big-doin's thataway -- @3Then,@1 to tell the p'inted fac', I've went more so's to come back By old Guthrie's still-house, where Minors @3has@1 got licker there -- That's pervidin' we could show 'em Old folks sent fer it from home! Visit roun' the neighbers some, When the @3boys@1 wants me to come. -- Coon-hunt with 'em; er set traps Fer mussrats; er jes', perhaps, Lay in roun' the stove, you know, And parch corn, and let her snow! Mostly, nights like these, you'll be (Ef you' got a writ fer @3me@1) Ap' to skeer me up, I guess, In about the Wigginses'. Nothin' roun' @3our@1 place to keep Me at home -- with Pap asleep 'Fore it's dark; and Mother in Mango pickles to her chin; And the girls, all still as death, Piecin' quilts. -- Sence I drawed breath Twenty year' ago, and heerd Some girls whisper'n' so's it 'peared Like they had a row o' pins In their mouth -- right there begins My first rickollections, built On that-air blame' old piece-quilt! Summer-time, it's jes' the same -- 'Cause I've noticed, -- and I claim, As I said afore, I'm more Subjec' to the weather, @3shore,@1 'Proachin' my majority, Than I ever ust to be! Callin' back @3last@1 Summer, say, -- Don't seem hardly past away -- With night closin' in, and all S' lonesome-like in the dewfall: Bats -- ad-drat their ugly muggs! -- Flicker'n by; and lightnin'-bugs Huckster'n roun' the airly night Little sickly gasps o' light; -- Whippoorwills, like all possess'd, Moanin' out their mournfullest; -- Frogs and katydids and things Jes' @3clubs@1 in and sings and sings Their @3ding-dangdest!@1 -- Stock's all fed, And Pap's warshed his feet fer bed; -- Mother and the girls all down At the milk-shed, foolin' roun' -- No wunder 'at I git blue, And lite out -- and so would you! I cain't stay aroun' no place Whur they hain't no livin' face: -- 'Crost the fields and thue the gaps Of the hills they's friends, perhaps, Waitin' somers, 'at kin be Kind o' comfertin' to me! Neighbers all is plenty good, Scattered thue this neighberhood; Yit, of all, I like to jes' Drap in on the Wigginses. -- Old man, and old lady too, 'Pear-like, makes so much o' you -- Least, they've allus pampered me Like one of the fambily. -- The boys, too, 's all thataway -- Want you jes' to come and stay; -- Price, and Chape, and Mandaville, Poke, Chasteen, and "Catfish Bill" -- Poke's the runt of all the rest, But he's jes' the beatin'est Little schemer, fer fourteen, Anybody ever seen! -- "Like his namesake," old man claims, "Jeems K. Poke, the first o' names! Full o' tricks and jokes -- and you Never know what @3Poke's@1 go' do!" @3Genius,@1 too, that-air boy is, With them awk'ard hands o' his: Gits this blame' pokeberry-juice, Er some stuff, fer ink -- and goose- Quill pen-p'ints: And then he'll draw Dogdest pictures yevver saw! -- Jes' make deers and eagles good As a writin' teacher could! Then they's two twin boys they've riz Of old Coonrod Wigginses 'At's deceast -- and glad of it, 'Cause his widder's livin' yit! 'Course @3the boys@1 is mostly jes' Why I go to Wigginses'. -- Though @3Melviney,@1 sometimes, @3she@1 Gits her slate and algebry And jes' sets there cipher'n' thue Sums old Ray hisse'f cain't do! -- Jes' sets there, and tilts her chair Forreds tel, 'pear-like, her hair Jes' @3spills@1 in her lap -- and then She jes' dips it up again With her hands, as white, I swan, As the apern she's got on! Talk o' hospitality! -- Go to Wigginses' with me -- Overhet, or froze plum thue, You'll find welcome waitin' you: -- Th'ow out yer tobacker 'fore You set foot acrost that floor, -- "Got to eat whatever's set -- Got to drink whatever's wet!" Old man's sentimuns -- them's his -- And means jes' the best they is! Then he lights his pipe; and she, The old lady, presen'ly She lights hern; and Chape and Poke. -- I hain't got none, ner don't smoke, -- (In the crick afore their door -- Sort o' so's 'at I'd be shore -- Drownded mine one night and says "I won't smoke at @3Wiggenses'!"@1) Price he's mostly talkin' 'bout Politics, and "thieves turned out" -- What he's go' to be, ef he Ever "gits there" -- and "we'll see!" -- Poke he 'lows they's blame' few men Go' to hold their breath tel then! Then Melviney smiles, as she Goes on with her algebry, And the clouds clear, and the room's Sweeter'n crabapple-blooms! (That Melviney, she's got some Most surprisin' ways, i gum! -- Don't 'pear-like she ever @3says@1 Nothin', yit you'll @3listen@1 jes' Like she @3was@1 a-talkin', and Half-way seem to understand, But not quite, -- @3Poke@1 does, I know, 'Cause he good as told me so, -- Poke's @3her@1 favo-rite; and he -- That is, confidentially -- He's @3my@1 favo-rite -- and I Got my whurfore and my why!) I hain't never be'n no hand Much at talkin', understand, But they's @3thoughts@1 o' mine 'at's jes' Jealous o' them Wigginses! -- Gift o' talkin' 's what they' got, Whuther they want to er not. -- F'r instunce, start the old man on Huntin'-scrapes, 'fore game was gone, 'Way back in the Forties, when Bears stold pigs right out the pen, Er went waltzin' 'crost the farm With a beehive on their arm! -- And -- sir, @3ping!@1 the old man's gun Has plumped over many a one, Firin' at him from afore That-air very cabin door! Yes -- and @3painters,@1 prowlin' 'bout, Allus darkest nights. -- Lay out Clost yet cattle. -- Great, big red Eyes a-blazin' in their head, Glitter'n' 'long the timber-line -- Shine out some and then @3un-shine,@1 And shine back -- Then, stiddy! @3whizz!@1 'N' there yer Mr. Painter is With a hole bored spang between Them-air eyes! . . . Er start Chasteen, Say, on blooded racin'-stock, Ef you want to hear him talk; Er tobacker -- how to raise, Store, and k-yore it, so's she pays. . . . The old lady -- and she'll cote Scriptur' tel she'll git yer vote! Prove to you 'at wrong is right, Jes' as plain as black is white: Prove when you're asleep in bed You're a-standin' on yer head, And yer train 'at's goin' West, 'S goin' East its level best; And when bees dies, it's their wings Wears out -- And a thousan' things! And the boys is "chips," you know, "Off the old block" -- So I go To the Wigginses', 'cause -- jes' 'Cause I @3like@1 the Wigginses -- Even ef Melviney @3she@1 Hardly 'pears to notice me! Rid to Chinkypin this week -- Yisterd'y. -- No snow to speak Of, and didn't have no sleigh Anyhow; so, as I say, I rid in -- and froze one ear And both heels -- and I don't keer! -- "Mother and the girls kin jes' Bother 'bout their Chris'mases @3Next@1 time fer @3theirse'v's,@1 i jack!" Thinks-says-I, a-startin' back, -- Whole durn meal-bag full of things Wropped in paper sacks, and strings Liable to snap their holt Jes' at any little jolt! That in front o' me, and @3wind@1 With @3nicks@1 in it, 'at jes' skinned Me alive! -- I'm here to say Nine mile' hossback thataway Would 'a' walked my log! But, as Somepin' allus comes to pass, As I topped old Guthrie's hill, Saw a buggy, front the Still, P'inted home'ards, and a thin Little chap jes' climbin' in. Six more minutes I were there On the groun's! -- And 'course it were -- It were little Poke -- and he Nearly fainted to see @3me!@1 -- "You be'n in to Chinky, too?" "Yes; and go' ride back with you," I-says-I. He he'pped me find Room fer my things in behind -- Stript my hoss's reins down, and Putt his mitt' on the right hand So's to lead -- "Pile in!" says he, "But you've struck pore company!" Noticed he was pale -- looked sick, Kind o' like, and had a quick Way o' flickin' them-air eyes O' his roun' 'at didn't size Up right with his usual style -- S' I, "You @3well?"@1 He tried to smile, But his chin shuck and tears come. -- @3"I've run 'Viney 'way from home!"@1 Don't know jes' what all occurred Next ten seconds -- Nary word, But my heart jes' drapt, stobbed thue, And whirlt over and come to. -- Wrenched a big quart-bottle from That fool-boy! -- and cut my thumb On his little fiste-teeth -- helt Him snug in one arm, and felt That-air little heart o' his Churn the blood o' Wigginses Into that old bead 'at spun Roun' her, spilt at Lexington! His k'niptions, like enough, He'pped us both, -- though it was rough -- Rough on him, and rougher on Me when, last his nerve was gone And he laid there still, his face Fishin' fer some hidin'-place Jes' a leetle lower down In my breast than he'd yit foun'! Last I kind o' soothed him, so's He could talk. -- And what you s'pose Them-air revelations of Poke's was? . . . He'd be'n writin' love- Letters to Melviney, and Givin' her to understand They was from "a young man who Loved her," and -- "the violet's blue 'N' sugar's sweet" -- and Lord knows what! Tel, 'peared-like, Melviney got S'inte@3rest@1ed in "the young Man," Poke @3he@1 says, 'at she brung A' answer onc't fer him to take, Statin' "she'd die fer his sake," And writ fifty @3x@1's "fer Love-kisses fer him from her!" . . . I was standin' in the road By the buggy, all I knowed When Poke got that fur. -- "That's why," Poke says, "I 'fessed up the lie -- @3Had@1 to -- 'cause I see," says he, "'Viney was in @3airnest@1 -- she @3Cried,@1 too, when I told her. -- Then She swore me, and smiled again, And got Pap and Mother to Let me hitch and drive her thue Into Chinkypin, to be At Aunt 'Rindy's Chris'mas-tree -- That's to-night." Says I, "Poke -- durn Your lyin' soul! -- 's that beau o' hern -- That -- @3she@1 -- loves -- Does @3he@1 live in That hell-hole o' Chinkypin?" "No," says Poke, "er 'Viney would Went some @3other@1 neighberhood." "Who @3is@1 the blame' whelp?" says I. "Promised 'Viney, hope I'd die Ef I ever told!" says Poke, Pittiful and jes' heartbroke' -- "'Sides that's why she left the place, -- She cain't look him in the face Now no more on earth!' she says." -- And the child broke down and jes' Sobbed! . . . Says I, "Poke, I p'tend T' be @3your@1 friend, and your @3Pap's@1 friend, And your @3Mother's@1 friend, and all The @3boys'@1 friend, little, large and small -- The @3whole fambily's@1 friend -- and you know that means @3Melviney,@1 too. -- Now -- you hursh yer troublin'! -- I'm Go' to he'p friends ever' time -- On'y in @3this@1 case, @3you@1 got To he'p @3me@1 -- and, like as not, I kin he'p @3Melviney@1 then, And we'll have her home again. And now, Poke, with your consent, I'm go' go to that-air gent She's in love with, and confer With @3him@1 on his views o' @3her!@1 -- Blast him! give the man @3some@1 show. -- Who @3is@1 he? -- @3I'm go' to know!"@1 Somepin' struck the little chap Funny, 'peared-like. -- Give a slap On his leg -- laughed thue the dew In his eyes, and says: @3"It's you!"@1 Yes, and -- 'cordin' to the last Love-letters of ours 'at passed Thue his hands -- we was to be Married Chris'mas. -- "Gee-mun-@3nee!@1 Poke," says I, "it's @3suddent@1 -- yit We @3kin@1 make it! You're to git Up to-morry, say, 'bout @3three@1 -- Tell your folks you're go' with me: -- We'll hitch up, and jes' drive in 'N' @3take@1 the town o' Chinkypin!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KEEP A-PLUGGING AWAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BITTER-SWEET: CRADLE SONG [OR, BABYHOOD] by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER by SIDNEY LANIER SONNET: 60 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |