The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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ME AND MARY |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
977
ME AND MARY
All my feelin's in the Spring
Gits so blame contrary,
I can't think of anything
Only me and Mary!
“Me and Mary!” all the time,
“Me and Mary!” like a rhyme,
Keeps a-dingin' on till I'm
Sick o' “Me and Mary!”
Gits so blame contrary,
I can't think of anything
Only me and Mary!
“Me and Mary!” all the time,
“Me and Mary!” like a rhyme,
Keeps a-dingin' on till I'm
Sick o' “Me and Mary!”
“Me and Mary! Ef us two
Only was together—
Playin' like we used to do
In the Aprile weather!”
All the night and all the day
I keep wishin' thataway
Till I'm gittin' old and gray
Jes' on “Me and Mary!”
Only was together—
Playin' like we used to do
In the Aprile weather!”
All the night and all the day
I keep wishin' thataway
Till I'm gittin' old and gray
Jes' on “Me and Mary!”
Muddy yit along the pike
Sence the Winter's freezin',
And the orchard's back'ard-like
Bloomin' out this season;
Only heerd one bluebird yit—
Nary robin ner tomtit;
What's the how and why of it?
'Spect it's “Me and Mary!”
Sence the Winter's freezin',
And the orchard's back'ard-like
Bloomin' out this season;
978
Nary robin ner tomtit;
What's the how and why of it?
'Spect it's “Me and Mary!”
Me and Mary liked the birds—
That is, Mary sort o'
Liked 'em first, and afterwards,
W'y, I thought I'd ort 'o.
And them birds—ef Mary stood
Right here with me, like she should—
They'd be singin', them birds would,
All fer me and Mary.
That is, Mary sort o'
Liked 'em first, and afterwards,
W'y, I thought I'd ort 'o.
And them birds—ef Mary stood
Right here with me, like she should—
They'd be singin', them birds would,
All fer me and Mary.
Birds er not, I'm hopin' some
I can git to plowin'!
Ef the sun'll only come,
And the Lord allowin',
Guess to-morry I'll turn in
And git down to work ag'in;
This here loaferin' won't win,
Not fer me and Mary!
I can git to plowin'!
Ef the sun'll only come,
And the Lord allowin',
Guess to-morry I'll turn in
And git down to work ag'in;
This here loaferin' won't win,
Not fer me and Mary!
Fer a man that loves, like me,
And's afeard to name it,
Till some other feller, he
Gits the girl—dad-shame-it!
Wet er dry, er cloud er sun—
Winter gone er jes' begun—
Outdoor work fer me er none,
No more “Me and Mary!”
And's afeard to name it,
Till some other feller, he
Gits the girl—dad-shame-it!
Wet er dry, er cloud er sun—
Winter gone er jes' begun—
Outdoor work fer me er none,
No more “Me and Mary!”
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |