 | Songs of two centuries |  |
79
FROM CORN-FIELD TO RIVER.
Yes, a seashore swimmin'-hole in a manner is excitin'—
Jumpin' billows like a hoop—or with ram-like waves a-fightin',
Beddin' in the flea-bit sand tryin' to improve the weather—
In a pair of overhauls an' a shirt-waist sewed together;
But for me I must agree that the ocean ain't a trimmin'
To the day we ran away from the fields, to go a-swimmin'!
[Thus said Ahab Adams, riding in “my auto-mo-what-is-it?”
To his brother Daniel Adams from Montana on a visit.]
Jumpin' billows like a hoop—or with ram-like waves a-fightin',
Beddin' in the flea-bit sand tryin' to improve the weather—
In a pair of overhauls an' a shirt-waist sewed together;
But for me I must agree that the ocean ain't a trimmin'
To the day we ran away from the fields, to go a-swimmin'!
[Thus said Ahab Adams, riding in “my auto-mo-what-is-it?”
To his brother Daniel Adams from Montana on a visit.]
What an afternoon that was!—all creation seemed a-burnin'!
Sim an' Jim an' me an' you agricult'ral tricks was learnin';
'Mongst the corn an' punkin vines for the world's advancement growin',
We four boys was takin' walks where the baked world needed hoein'.
Sim an' Jim an' me an' you agricult'ral tricks was learnin';
'Mongst the corn an' punkin vines for the world's advancement growin',
We four boys was takin' walks where the baked world needed hoein'.
What a hot-house day it was! sun a bonfire just above us;
Air as still as grassy graves of the folks that used to love us;
Skies as clear as babies' eyes—old moon grinned at our condition;
Cloud or cloudlet anywhere was an unknown proposition.
So we done the horses' work, while they stood 'neath shade-trees charmin'
(Cultivators wan't yet made, so that men could ride their farmin').
Air as still as grassy graves of the folks that used to love us;
Skies as clear as babies' eyes—old moon grinned at our condition;
Cloud or cloudlet anywhere was an unknown proposition.
So we done the horses' work, while they stood 'neath shade-trees charmin'
(Cultivators wan't yet made, so that men could ride their farmin').
An' we walked an' hoed an' arg'ed various matters of creation
That would make us think way off, an' forget our perspiration:
Wondered 'bout the steamboat craft ploughin' up a watery furrow,
Deacon Smith had seen one day when he went to Middleborough;
Wondered at the railroad trains—how there ever come to be one—
If they'd some time skip our way—or we'd ever git to see one;
Talked about the stars on high—mostly suns of long existence—
Glad, if they was like our sun, they knowed how to keep their distance;
Talked about the 'lectric wire that the city-folks was gettin'—
Wondered how they kep' the news, when 'twas rainy, from a wettin';
Talked about the winter school; how we worked there like the dickens,
On the sums; an' how, somehow, ans'ers wan't as flush as lickin's;
How warm Sundays growed the sermons; how we never got to miss one;
Wondered if the other world had a corn-field hot as this one;
Talked our high ambitions higher, mourned the poverty that bound us—
Talked of all the pretty gals for ten mile or so around us;
Hoein' with our minds an' hearts facts we'd noticed or been taught of:
Several things that Markham's fool mebby never even thought of.
That would make us think way off, an' forget our perspiration:
Wondered 'bout the steamboat craft ploughin' up a watery furrow,
Deacon Smith had seen one day when he went to Middleborough;
Wondered at the railroad trains—how there ever come to be one—
If they'd some time skip our way—or we'd ever git to see one;
Talked about the stars on high—mostly suns of long existence—
Glad, if they was like our sun, they knowed how to keep their distance;
Talked about the 'lectric wire that the city-folks was gettin'—
Wondered how they kep' the news, when 'twas rainy, from a wettin';
80
On the sums; an' how, somehow, ans'ers wan't as flush as lickin's;
How warm Sundays growed the sermons; how we never got to miss one;
Wondered if the other world had a corn-field hot as this one;
Talked our high ambitions higher, mourned the poverty that bound us—
Talked of all the pretty gals for ten mile or so around us;
Hoein' with our minds an' hearts facts we'd noticed or been taught of:
Several things that Markham's fool mebby never even thought of.
But while we was bakin' there, raisin' fodder for the cattle,
In the road some rods away we could hear a wagon rattle;
It was Dad, a-drivin off to'ds the village, with the women;
An' I recollect you said, “Boys, le's sneak an' go a-swimmin'!”
In the road some rods away we could hear a wagon rattle;
It was Dad, a-drivin off to'ds the village, with the women;
An' I recollect you said, “Boys, le's sneak an' go a-swimmin'!”
I hev since been up an' down through agreements an' contentions;
I hev even helped to run legislaters an' conventions;
But for unanimity right up equal to my notion,
I hev never seen it yet, since the time you made that motion.
I hev even helped to run legislaters an' conventions;
But for unanimity right up equal to my notion,
I hev never seen it yet, since the time you made that motion.
How we crept off through the woods till we found that blessed river!
How we dove into its depths, with a first delicious shiver!
How we paddled up an' down! How we splashed each others' faces!
How we tunnelled through the water, comin' up in different places!
How we towed each other round by the hair an' heels alternit!
How a half of us could swim an' the others tried to learn it!
How we envied everything that was ever scaled or finny!
“This”, I recollect you said, “beats the corn-field all to Guinea!”
How we dove into its depths, with a first delicious shiver!
How we paddled up an' down! How we splashed each others' faces!
How we tunnelled through the water, comin' up in different places!
How we towed each other round by the hair an' heels alternit!
How a half of us could swim an' the others tried to learn it!
How we envied everything that was ever scaled or finny!
“This”, I recollect you said, “beats the corn-field all to Guinea!”
Yes, 'twas heaven! an' when 'twas through nothin' made it less elatin',
'Ceptin' Dad upon the bank, with some birch-sticks, calmly waitin'.
'Ceptin' Dad upon the bank, with some birch-sticks, calmly waitin'.
| Songs of two centuries | |