The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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PAP'S OLD SAYIN' |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1101
PAP'S OLD SAYIN'
Pap had one old-fashioned sayin'
That I'll never quite fergit—
And they's seven growed-up childern
Of us rickollects it yit!—
Settin' round the dinner-table,
Talkin' 'bout our friends, perhaps,
Er abusin' of our neghbors,
I kin hear them words o' Pap's—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
That I'll never quite fergit—
And they's seven growed-up childern
Of us rickollects it yit!—
Settin' round the dinner-table,
Talkin' 'bout our friends, perhaps,
Er abusin' of our neghbors,
I kin hear them words o' Pap's—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Pap he'd never argy with us,
Ner cut any subject short
Whilse we all kep' clear o' gossip,
And wuz actin' as we ort:
But ef we'd git out o' order—
Like sometimes a fambly is,—
Faultin' folks, er one another,
Then we'd hear that voice o' his—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Ner cut any subject short
Whilse we all kep' clear o' gossip,
And wuz actin' as we ort:
But ef we'd git out o' order—
Like sometimes a fambly is,—
Faultin' folks, er one another,
Then we'd hear that voice o' his—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Wuz no hand hisse'f at talkin'—
Never hadn't much to say,—
Only, as I said, pervidin'
When we'd rile him thataway:
Then he'd allus lose his temper
Spite o' fate, and jerk his head
And slam down his case-knife vicious'
Whilse he glared around and said—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Never hadn't much to say,—
Only, as I said, pervidin'
When we'd rile him thataway:
1102
Spite o' fate, and jerk his head
And slam down his case-knife vicious'
Whilse he glared around and said—
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Mind last time 'at Pap was ailin'
With a misery in his side,
And had hobbled in the kitchen—
Jes' the day before he died,—
Laury Jane she ups and tells him,
“Pap, you're pale as pale kin be—
Hain't ye 'feard them-air cowcumbers
Hain't good fer ye?” And says he,
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
With a misery in his side,
And had hobbled in the kitchen—
Jes' the day before he died,—
Laury Jane she ups and tells him,
“Pap, you're pale as pale kin be—
Hain't ye 'feard them-air cowcumbers
Hain't good fer ye?” And says he,
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Well! I've saw a-many a sorrow,—
Forty year', through thick and thin;
I've got best,—and I've got worsted,
Time and time and time ag'in!—
But I've met a-many a trouble
That I hain't run on to twice,
Haltin'-like and thinkin' over
Them-air words o' Pap's advice:
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Forty year', through thick and thin;
I've got best,—and I've got worsted,
Time and time and time ag'in!—
But I've met a-many a trouble
That I hain't run on to twice,
Haltin'-like and thinkin' over
Them-air words o' Pap's advice:
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |