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 | A thousand more verses |  |
Then I recollect you, brother—my! who now would ever think it!
Whispered, “Youth is full of syrup: let us go and help to drink it!”
Then we sneaked out of the window—still as chaos 'fore creation—
Startin' for a Christmas dance—over in the “Heathen Nation.”
Mercy! didn't it make a flutter, when the people saw appearin'
Four strong husky youthful Christians, come from Deacon Adams' clearin'!
Still those sinners—not disposed to wastin' time with small surprises,
Didn't let us interfere with the reg'lar exercises:
They rushed to us good an' hearty—not as brands plucked from the burnin'
But as Deacon Adams' pris'ners from cold storage now returnin'.
An' the fiddle—how it thrilled us!—every kind of thought revealin':
Scoldin' cryin', grumblin', shoutin', whisp'rin', singin', warblin', squealin'—
Brother, have you any wonder, as we read those memory-pages,
That we fellers went to dancin' jest as if we danced for wages?
Whispered, “Youth is full of syrup: let us go and help to drink it!”
Then we sneaked out of the window—still as chaos 'fore creation—
Startin' for a Christmas dance—over in the “Heathen Nation.”
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Four strong husky youthful Christians, come from Deacon Adams' clearin'!
Still those sinners—not disposed to wastin' time with small surprises,
Didn't let us interfere with the reg'lar exercises:
They rushed to us good an' hearty—not as brands plucked from the burnin'
But as Deacon Adams' pris'ners from cold storage now returnin'.
An' the fiddle—how it thrilled us!—every kind of thought revealin':
Scoldin' cryin', grumblin', shoutin', whisp'rin', singin', warblin', squealin'—
Brother, have you any wonder, as we read those memory-pages,
That we fellers went to dancin' jest as if we danced for wages?
| A thousand more verses | |