The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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| 1. | I
THE HIRED MAN TALKS |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
I
THE HIRED MAN TALKS
There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et—S'repty's sister;—an'
There's me—an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you bet yer life!
An' Marg'et—S'repty's sister;—an'
There's me—an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you bet yer life!
Well, now, old Willards hain't so bad,
Considerin' the chance he's had.
Of course, he's rich, an' sleeps an' eats
Whenever he's a mind to: Takes
An' leans back in the Amen-seats
An' thanks the Lord fer all he makes.—
That's purty much all folks has got
Ag'inst the old man, like as not!
But there's his woman—jes' the turn
Of them-air two wild girls o' hern—
Marg'et an' S'repty—allus in
Fer any cuttin'-up concern—
Church festibals, an' foolishin'
Round Christmas-trees, an' New Year's sprees—
Set up to watch the Old Year go
An' New Year come—sich things as these;
An' turkey-dinners, don't you know!
S'repty's younger, an' more gay,
An' purtier, an' finer dressed
Than Marg'et is—but, lawsy-day!
She hain't the independentest!—
“Take care!” old Willards used to say,
“Take care!—Let Marg'et have her way,
An' S'repty, you go off an' play
On your melodeum!”—But, best
Of all, comes Tomps! An' I'll be bound,
Ef he hain't jes' the beatin'est
Young chap in all the country round!
Ef you know Tomps you'd like him, shore!
They hain't no man on top o' ground
Walks into my affections more!—
An' all the Settlement'll say
That Tomps was liked jes' thataway
By ever'body, till he tuk
A shine to S'repty Willards.—Then
You'd ort 'o see the old man buck
An' h'ist hisse'f, an' paw the dirt,
An' hint that “common workin'-men
That didn't want their feelin's hurt
'Ud better hunt fer ‘comp'ny’ where
The folks was pore an' didn't care!”—
The pine-blank facts is,—the old man,
Last Christmas was a year ago,
Found out some presents Tomps had got
Fer S'repty, an' hit made him hot—
Set down an' tuk his pen in hand
An' writ to Tomps an' told him so
On legal cap, in white an' black,
An' give him jes' to understand
“No Christmas-gifts o' ‘lily-white’
An' bear's-ile could fix matters right,”
An' wropped 'em up an' sent 'em back!
Well, S'repty cried an' snuffled round
Consid'able. But Marg'et she
Toed out another sock, an' wound
Her knittin' up, an' drawed the tea,
An' then set on the supper-things,
An' went up in the loft an' dressed—
An' through it all you'd never guessed
What she was up to! An' she brings
Her best hat with her an' her shawl,
An' gloves, an' redicule, an' all,
An' injirubbers, an' comes down
An' tells 'em she's a-goin' to town
To he'p the Christmas goin's-on
Her Church got up. An' go she does—
The best hosswoman ever was!
“An' what'll WE do while you're gone?”
The old man says, a-tryin' to be
Agreeable. “Oh! you?” says she,—
“You kin jaw S'repty, like you did,
An' slander Tomps!” An' off she rid!
Now, this is all I'm goin' to tell
Of this-here story—that is, I
Have done my very level best
As fur as this, an' here I “dwell,”
As auctioneers says, winkin' sly:
Hit's old man Willards tells the rest.
Considerin' the chance he's had.
Of course, he's rich, an' sleeps an' eats
Whenever he's a mind to: Takes
An' leans back in the Amen-seats
An' thanks the Lord fer all he makes.—
That's purty much all folks has got
Ag'inst the old man, like as not!
But there's his woman—jes' the turn
Of them-air two wild girls o' hern—
Marg'et an' S'repty—allus in
Fer any cuttin'-up concern—
Church festibals, an' foolishin'
1072
Set up to watch the Old Year go
An' New Year come—sich things as these;
An' turkey-dinners, don't you know!
S'repty's younger, an' more gay,
An' purtier, an' finer dressed
Than Marg'et is—but, lawsy-day!
She hain't the independentest!—
“Take care!” old Willards used to say,
“Take care!—Let Marg'et have her way,
An' S'repty, you go off an' play
On your melodeum!”—But, best
Of all, comes Tomps! An' I'll be bound,
Ef he hain't jes' the beatin'est
Young chap in all the country round!
Ef you know Tomps you'd like him, shore!
They hain't no man on top o' ground
Walks into my affections more!—
An' all the Settlement'll say
That Tomps was liked jes' thataway
By ever'body, till he tuk
A shine to S'repty Willards.—Then
You'd ort 'o see the old man buck
An' h'ist hisse'f, an' paw the dirt,
An' hint that “common workin'-men
That didn't want their feelin's hurt
'Ud better hunt fer ‘comp'ny’ where
The folks was pore an' didn't care!”—
The pine-blank facts is,—the old man,
Last Christmas was a year ago,
1073
Fer S'repty, an' hit made him hot—
Set down an' tuk his pen in hand
An' writ to Tomps an' told him so
On legal cap, in white an' black,
An' give him jes' to understand
“No Christmas-gifts o' ‘lily-white’
An' bear's-ile could fix matters right,”
An' wropped 'em up an' sent 'em back!
Well, S'repty cried an' snuffled round
Consid'able. But Marg'et she
Toed out another sock, an' wound
Her knittin' up, an' drawed the tea,
An' then set on the supper-things,
An' went up in the loft an' dressed—
An' through it all you'd never guessed
What she was up to! An' she brings
Her best hat with her an' her shawl,
An' gloves, an' redicule, an' all,
An' injirubbers, an' comes down
An' tells 'em she's a-goin' to town
To he'p the Christmas goin's-on
Her Church got up. An' go she does—
The best hosswoman ever was!
“An' what'll WE do while you're gone?”
The old man says, a-tryin' to be
Agreeable. “Oh! you?” says she,—
“You kin jaw S'repty, like you did,
An' slander Tomps!” An' off she rid!
1074
Of this-here story—that is, I
Have done my very level best
As fur as this, an' here I “dwell,”
As auctioneers says, winkin' sly:
Hit's old man Willards tells the rest.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |