The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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MY DANCIN'-DAYS IS OVER |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1691
MY DANCIN'-DAYS IS OVER
What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'at makes me ketch my breath
And ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most to death?—
Kind o' like that sweet-sick feelin', in the long sweep of a swing,
The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweetheart, i jing!—
Yer first picnic—yer first ice-cream—yer first o' ever'thing
'At happened 'fore yer dancin'-days wuz over!
And ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most to death?—
Kind o' like that sweet-sick feelin', in the long sweep of a swing,
The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweetheart, i jing!—
Yer first picnic—yer first ice-cream—yer first o' ever'thing
'At happened 'fore yer dancin'-days wuz over!
I never understood it—and I s'pose I never can,—
But right in town here, yisterd'y I heard a pore blind man
A-fiddlin' old “Gray Eagle”—And-sir! I jes' stopped my load
O' hay and listened at him—yes, and watched the way he “bow'd,”—
And back I went, plum forty year', with boys and girls I knowed
And loved, long 'fore my dancin'-days wuz over!—
But right in town here, yisterd'y I heard a pore blind man
A-fiddlin' old “Gray Eagle”—And-sir! I jes' stopped my load
O' hay and listened at him—yes, and watched the way he “bow'd,”—
And back I went, plum forty year', with boys and girls I knowed
And loved, long 'fore my dancin'-days wuz over!—
1692
At high noon in yer city,—with yer blame' Magnetic-Cars
A-hummin' and a-screetchin' past—and bands and G. A. R.'s
A-marchin'—and fire-ingines.—All the noise, the whole street through,
Wuz lost on me!—I only heard a whipperwill er two,
It 'peared-like, kind o' callin' 'crost the darkness and the dew,
Them nights afore my dancin'-days wuz over.
A-hummin' and a-screetchin' past—and bands and G. A. R.'s
A-marchin'—and fire-ingines.—All the noise, the whole street through,
Wuz lost on me!—I only heard a whipperwill er two,
It 'peared-like, kind o' callin' 'crost the darkness and the dew,
Them nights afore my dancin'-days wuz over.
'T'uz Chused'y-night at Wetherell's, er We'n'sd'y-night at Strawn's,
Er Fourth-o'-July-night at uther Tomps's house er John's!—
With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old fiddle he
Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to the sea—
And yit he'd fetched her home ag'in, so's he could play fer me
Onc't more afore my dancin'-days wuz over!
Er Fourth-o'-July-night at uther Tomps's house er John's!—
With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old fiddle he
Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to the sea—
And yit he'd fetched her home ag'in, so's he could play fer me
Onc't more afore my dancin'-days wuz over!
The woods 'at's all be'n cut away wuz growin' same as then;
The youngsters all wuz boys ag'in 'at's now all oldish men;
And all the girls 'at then wuz girls—I saw 'em, one and all,
As plain as then—the middle-sized, the short-and-fat, and tall—
And 'peared-like, I danced “Tucker” fer 'em up and down the wall
Jes' like afore my dancin'-days wuz over!
The youngsters all wuz boys ag'in 'at's now all oldish men;
And all the girls 'at then wuz girls—I saw 'em, one and all,
1693
And 'peared-like, I danced “Tucker” fer 'em up and down the wall
Jes' like afore my dancin'-days wuz over!
[OMITTED]
The facts is, I wuz dazed so 'at I clean fergot jes' where
I railly wuz,—a-blockin' streets, and still a-standin' there:
I heard the po-leece yellin', but my ears wuz kind o' blurred—
My eyes, too, fer the odds o' that,—bekase I thought I heard
My wife 'at's dead a-laughin'-like, and jokin', word-fer-word
Jes' like afore her dancin'-days wuz over.
I railly wuz,—a-blockin' streets, and still a-standin' there:
I heard the po-leece yellin', but my ears wuz kind o' blurred—
My eyes, too, fer the odds o' that,—bekase I thought I heard
My wife 'at's dead a-laughin'-like, and jokin', word-fer-word
Jes' like afore her dancin'-days wuz over.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |