The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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GLADNESS |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1310
GLADNESS
My ole man named Silas: he
Dead long 'fo' ole Gin'l Lee
S'rendah, whense de wah wuz done.
Yanks dey tuk de plantation—
Mos' high-handed evah you see!—
Das rack round', an' fiah an' bu'n,
An' jab de beds wid deir bay-net-gun,
An' sweah we niggahs all scotch-free,—
An' Massah John C. Pemberton
Das tuk an' run!
Dead long 'fo' ole Gin'l Lee
S'rendah, whense de wah wuz done.
Yanks dey tuk de plantation—
Mos' high-handed evah you see!—
Das rack round', an' fiah an' bu'n,
An' jab de beds wid deir bay-net-gun,
An' sweah we niggahs all scotch-free,—
An' Massah John C. Pemberton
Das tuk an' run!
“Gord Armighty, marm,” he 'low,
“He'p you an' de chillen now!”
Blaze crack out 'n de roof inside
Tel de big house all das charified!
Smoke roll out 'n de ole haymow
An' de wa'house do'—an' de fiah das roah—
An' all dat 'backer, 'bout half dried,
Hit smell das fried!
“He'p you an' de chillen now!”
Blaze crack out 'n de roof inside
Tel de big house all das charified!
Smoke roll out 'n de ole haymow
An' de wa'house do'—an' de fiah das roah—
An' all dat 'backer, 'bout half dried,
Hit smell das fried!
Nelse, my ol'est boy, an' John,—
Atter de baby das wuz bo'n,
Erlongse dem times, an' lak ter 'a' died,
An' Silas he be'n slip an' gone
'Bout eight weeks ter de Union side,—
Dem two boys dey start fo' ter fine
An' jine deir fader acrost de line.
Ovahseeah he wade an' tromp
Eveh-which-way fo' to track 'em down—
Sic de bloodhoun' fro' de swamp—
An' bring de news dat John he drown'—
But dey save de houn'!
Atter de baby das wuz bo'n,
Erlongse dem times, an' lak ter 'a' died,
An' Silas he be'n slip an' gone
1311
Dem two boys dey start fo' ter fine
An' jine deir fader acrost de line.
Ovahseeah he wade an' tromp
Eveh-which-way fo' to track 'em down—
Sic de bloodhoun' fro' de swamp—
An' bring de news dat John he drown'—
But dey save de houn'!
Someway ner Nelse git fru'
An' fight fo' de ole Red, White, an' Blue,
Lak his fader is, ter er heart's delight—
An' nen crope back wid de news, one night—
Sayes, “Fader's killed in a scrimmage-fight,
An' saunt farewell ter ye all, an' sayes
Fo' ter name de baby ‘Gladness,’ 'caze
Mighty nigh she 'uz be'n borned free!”
An' de boy he smile so strange at me
I sayes, “Yo' 's hurt yo' se'f!” an' he
Sayes, “I's killed, too—an' dat's all else!”
An' dah lay Nelse!
An' fight fo' de ole Red, White, an' Blue,
Lak his fader is, ter er heart's delight—
An' nen crope back wid de news, one night—
Sayes, “Fader's killed in a scrimmage-fight,
An' saunt farewell ter ye all, an' sayes
Fo' ter name de baby ‘Gladness,’ 'caze
Mighty nigh she 'uz be'n borned free!”
An' de boy he smile so strange at me
I sayes, “Yo' 's hurt yo' se'f!” an' he
Sayes, “I's killed, too—an' dat's all else!”
An' dah lay Nelse!
Hope an' Angrish, de twins, be'n sole
'Fo' dey mo' 'n twelve year ole:
An' Mary Magdaline sole too.
An' dah I's lef', wid Knox-Andrew,
An' Lily, an' Maje, an' Margaret,
An' little gal-babe, 'at's borned dat new
She scaisely ole fo' ter be named yet—
Less'n de name 'at Si say to—
An' co'se hit do.
'Fo' dey mo' 'n twelve year ole:
An' Mary Magdaline sole too.
An' dah I's lef', wid Knox-Andrew,
An' Lily, an' Maje, an' Margaret,
An' little gal-babe, 'at's borned dat new
She scaisely ole fo' ter be named yet—
Less'n de name 'at Si say to—
An' co'se hit do.
1312
An' I taken dem chillen, evah one
(An' a-oh my Mastah's will be done!),
An' I break fo' de Norf, whah dey all raised free
(An' a-oh good Mastah, come git me!).
Knox-Andrew, on de day he died,
Lef' his fambly er shop an' er lot berside;
An' Maje die ownin' er team—an' he
Lef' all ter me.
(An' a-oh my Mastah's will be done!),
An' I break fo' de Norf, whah dey all raised free
(An' a-oh good Mastah, come git me!).
Knox-Andrew, on de day he died,
Lef' his fambly er shop an' er lot berside;
An' Maje die ownin' er team—an' he
Lef' all ter me.
Lily she work at de Gran' Hotel—
(Mastah! Mastah! take me—do!)—
An' Lily she ain' married well:
He stob a man—an' she die too;
An' Margaret she too full er pride
Ter own her kin tel er day she died!
But Gladness!—'t ain' soun' sho'-nuff true,—
But she teached school!—an' er white folks, too,
Ruspec' dat gal 'mos' high ez I do!—
'Caze she 'uz de bes' an' de mos' high bred—
De las' chile bo'n, an' de las chile dead,
O' all ten head!
(Mastah! Mastah! take me—do!)—
An' Lily she ain' married well:
He stob a man—an' she die too;
An' Margaret she too full er pride
Ter own her kin tel er day she died!
But Gladness!—'t ain' soun' sho'-nuff true,—
But she teached school!—an' er white folks, too,
Ruspec' dat gal 'mos' high ez I do!—
'Caze she 'uz de bes' an' de mos' high bred—
De las' chile bo'n, an' de las chile dead,
O' all ten head!
Gladness! Gladness! a-oh my chile!
Wa'm my soul in yo' sweet smile!
Daughter o' Silas! o-rise an' sing
Tel er heart-beat pat lak er pigeon-wing!
Sayes, O Gladness! wake dem eyes—
Sayes, a-lif' dem folded han's, an' rise—
Sayes, a-coax me erlong ter Paradise,
An' a-hail de King,
O Gladness!
Wa'm my soul in yo' sweet smile!
Daughter o' Silas! o-rise an' sing
Tel er heart-beat pat lak er pigeon-wing!
Sayes, O Gladness! wake dem eyes—
Sayes, a-lif' dem folded han's, an' rise—
Sayes, a-coax me erlong ter Paradise,
An' a-hail de King,
O Gladness!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |