The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS |
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The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | ||
1857
RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS
I
If you don't know Doc Sifers I'll jes' argy, here and now,You've bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow,
'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods—er swum 'em, now and then—
And practised in this neighberhood sence hain't no tellin' when!
II
In radius o' fifteen mil'd, all p'ints o' compass round,No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on top o' ground,
But knows him—yes, and got respects and likin' fer him, too,
Fer all his so-to-speak dee-fects o' genius showin' through!
1858
III
Some claims he's absent-minded; some has said they wuz afeardTo take his powders when he come and dosed 'em out, and 'peared
To have his mind on somepin' else—like County Ditch, er some
New way o' tannin' mussrat-pelts, er makin' butter come.
IV
He's cur'ous—they hain't no mistake about it!—but he's gotEnough o' extry brains to make a jury—like as not.
They's no describin' Sifers,—fer, when all is said and done,
He's jes' hisse'f Doc Sifers—ner they hain't no other one!
V
Doc's allus sociable, polite, and 'greeable, you'll find—Pervidin' ef you strike him right and nothin' on his mind,—
Like in some hurry, when they've sent fer Sifers quick, you see,
To 'tend some sawmill-accident, er picnic jamboree;
1859
VI
Er when the lightin' 's struck some harebrained harvest-hand; er inSome 'tempt o' suicidin'—where they'd ort to try ag'in!
I've knowed Doc haul up from a trot and talk a' hour er two
When railly he'd a-ort o' not a-stopped fer “Howdy-do!”
VII
And then, I've met him 'long the road, a-lopin',—starin' straightAhead,—and yit he never knowed me when I hollered “Yate,
Old Saddlebags!” all hearty-like, er “Who you goin' to kill?”
And he'd say nothin'—only hike on faster, starin' still!
VIII
I'd bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes' wuzn't shoreDoc didn't mean a thing. And I'm not tetchy any more
Sence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes' a-stopped to jaw with me,
They'd bin a little dorter less in my own fambily!
1860
IX
Times now, at home, when Sifers' name comes up, I jes' let on,You know, 'at I think Doc's to blame, the way he's bin and gone
And disapp'inted folks—'Ll-jee-mun-nee! you'd ort to then
Jes' hear my wife light into me—“ongratefulest o' men!”
X
'Mongst all the women—mild er rough, splendiferous er plain,Er them with sense, er not enough to come in out the rain,—
Jes' ever' shape and build and style o' women, fat er slim—
They all like Doc, and got a smile and pleasant word fer him!
XI
Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw but what'll neigh and tryTo sidle up to him, and paw, and sense him, ear-and-eye:
Then jes' a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm, to pat 'em, er to shove
Along their nose—and they're as ca'm as any cooin' dove!
1861
XII
And same with dogs,—take any breed, er strain, er pedigree,Er racial caste 'at can't concede no use fer you er me,—
They'll putt all predju-dice aside in Doc's case and go in
Kahoots with him, as satisfied as he wuz kith-and-kin!
XIII
And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets!—He's got a chicken-hawk,In kind o' half-cage, where he sets out in the gyarden-walk,
And got that wild bird trained so tame, he'll loose him, and he'll fly
Clean to the woods!—Doc calls his name—and he'll come, by and by!
XIV
Some says no money down 'ud buy that bird o' Doc.—Ner noInducement to the bird, says I, 'at he'd let Sifers go!
And Doc he say 'at he's content—long as a bird o' prey
Kin 'bide him, it's a compliment, and takes it thataway.
1862
XV
But, gittin' back to docterin'—all the sick and in distress,And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and motherless,—
I jes' tell you I 'preciate the man 'at's got the love
To “go ye forth and ministrate!” as Scriptur' tells us of.
XVI
Dull times, Doc jes' mianders round, in that old rig o' his:And hain't no tellin' where he's bound ner guessin' where he is;
He'll drive, they tell, jes' thataway fer maybe six er eight
Days at a stretch; and neighbers say he's bin clean round the State.
XVII
He picked a' old tramp up, one trip, 'bout eighty mil'd from here,And fetched him home and k-yored his hip, and kep' him 'bout a year;
And feller said—in all his ja'nts round this terreschul ball
'At no man wuz a circumstance to Doc!—he topped 'em all!—
1863
XVIII
Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book to Doc, and vines and mossHe read like writin'—with a look knowed ever' dot and cross:
Said, stars at night wuz jes' as good's a compass: said, he s'pose
You couldn't lose Doc in the woods the darkest night that blows!
XIX
Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't, by underbresh and plants,How fur off warter is,—and 'most perdict the sort o' chance
You'll have o' findin' fish; and how they're liable to bite,
And whether they're a-bitin' now, er only after night.
XX
And, whilse we're talkin' fish,—I mind they formed a fishin'-crowd(When folks could fish 'thout gittin' fined, and seinin' wuz allowed!)
O' leadin' citizens, you know, to go and seine “Old Blue”—
But hadn't no big seine, and so—w'y, what wuz they to do? ...
1864
XXI
And Doc he say he thought 'at he could knit a stitch er two—“Bring the materials to me—'at's all I'm astin' you!”
And down he sets—six weeks, i jing! and knits that seine plum done—
Made corks too, brails and ever'thing—good as a boughten one!
XXII
Doc's public sperit—when the sick's not takin' all his timeAnd he's got some fer politics—is simple yit sublime:—
He'll talk his principles—and they air honest;—but the sly
Friend strikes him first, election-day, he'd 'commodate, er die!
XXIII
And yit, though Doc, as all men knows, is square straight up and down,That vote o' his is—well, I s'pose—the cheapest one in town;—
A fact 'at's sad to verify, as could be done on oath—
I've voted Doc myse'f—And I was criminal fer both!
1865
XXIV
You kin corrupt the ballot-box—corrupt yourse'f, as well—Corrupt some neighbers,—but old Doc's as oncorruptible
As Holy Writ. So putt a pin right there!—Let Sifers be,
I jucks! he wouldn't vote ag'in' his own worst inimy!
XXV
When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low with fever, and Doc GlennTold Euby Cynth 'ud haf to go—they sends fer Sifers then! ...
Doc sized the case: “She's starved,” says he, “fer warter—yes, and meat!
The treatment 'at she'll git from me's all she kin drink and eat!”
XXVI
He orders Euby then to split some wood, and take and buildA fire in kitchen-stove, and git a young spring-chicken killed;
And jes' whirled in and th'owed his hat and coat there on the bed,
And warshed his hands and sailed in that-air kitchen, Euby said,
1866
XXVII
And biled that chicken-broth, and got that dinner—all completeAnd clean and crisp and good and hot as mortal ever eat!
And Cynth and Euby both'll say 'at Doc'll git as good
Meals-vittles up, jes' any day, as any woman could!
XXVIII
Time Sister Abbick tuk so bad with striffen o' the lung,P'tracted Meetin', where she had jes' shouted, prayed, and sung
All winter long, through snow and thaw,—when Sifers come, says he:
“No, M'lissy; don't poke out your raw and cloven tongue at me!—
XXIX
“I know, without no symptoms but them injarubber-shoesYou promised me to never putt a fool-foot in ner use
At purril o' your life!” he said. “And I won't save you now,
Onless—here on your dyin' bed—you consecrate your vow!”
1867
XXX
Without a-claimin' any creed, Doc's rail religious viewsNobody knows—ner got no need o' knowin' whilse he choose
To be heerd not of man, ner raise no loud, vain-glorious prayers
In crowded marts, er public ways, er—i jucks, anywheres!—
XXXI
'Less'n it is away deep down in his own heart, at night,Facin' the storm, when all the town's a-sleepin' snug and tight—
Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride and sloth and gilded show,
To some pore sufferer's bedside o' anguish, don't you know!
XXXII
Er maybe dead o' winter—makes no odds to Doc,—he's gotTo face the weather ef it takes the hide off! 'cause he'll not
Lie out o' goin' and p'tend he's sick hisse'f—like some
'At I could name 'at folks might send fer and they'd never come!
1868
XXXIII
Like pore Phin Hoover—when he goes to that last dance o' his!That Chris'mus when his feet wuz froze—and Doc saved all they is
Left of 'em—“'Nough,” as Phin say now, “to track me by, and be
A advertisement, anyhow, o' what Doc's done fer me!—
XXXIV
“When he come—knife-and-saw”—Phin say, “I knowed, ef I'd the spunk,'At Doc 'ud fix me up some way, ef nothin' but my trunk
Wuz left, he'd fasten casters in, and have me, spick-and-span,
A-skootin' round the streets ag'in as spry as any man!”
XXXV
Doc sees a patient's got to quit—he'll ease him down sereneAs dozin' off to sleep, and yit not dope him with morpheen.—
He won't tell what—jes' 'lows 'at he has “airnt the right to sing
‘O grave, where is thy victery! O death, where is thy sting!’”
1869
XXXVI
And, mind ye now!—it's not in scoff and scorn, by long degree,'At Doc gits things like that-un off: it's jes' his shority
And total faith in Life to Come,—w'y, “from that Land o' Bliss,”
He says, “we'll haf to chuckle some, a-lookin' back at this!”
XXXVII
And, still in p'int, I mind, one night o' 'nitiation atSome secert lodge, 'at Doc set right down on 'em, square and flat,
When they mixed up some Scriptur' and wuz funnin'-like—w'y, he
Lit in 'em with a rep'imand 'at ripped 'em, A to Z!
XXXVIII
And onc't—when gineral loafin'-place wuz old Shoe-Shop—and allThe gang 'ud git in there and brace their backs ag'inst the wall
And settle questions that had went onsettled long enough,—
Like “wuz no Heav'n—ner no torment”—jes' talkin' awful rough!
1870
XXXIX
There wuz Sloke Haines and old Ike Knight and Coonrod Simmes—all threeAg'inst the Bible and the Light, and scoutin' Deity.
“Science,” says Ike, “it DIMonstrates—it takes nobody's word—
Scriptur' er not,—it 'vestigates ef sich things could occurred!”
XL
Well, Doc he heerd this,—he'd drapped in a minute, fer to gitA tore-off heel pegged on ag'in,—and, as he stood on it
And stomped and grinned, he says to Ike, “I s'pose now, purty soon
Some lightin'-bug, indignant-like, 'll 'vestigate the moon! ...
XLI
“No, Ike,” says Doc, “this world hain't saw no brains like yourn and mineWith sense enough to grasp a law 'at takes a brain divine.—
I've bared the thoughts of brains in doubt, and felt their finest pulse,—
And mortal brains jes' won't turn out omnipotent results!”
1871
XLII
And Doc he's got respects to spare the rich as well as pore—Says he, “I'd turn no millionnaire onsheltered from my door.”—
Says he, “What's wealth to him in quest o' honest friends to back
And love him fer hisse'f?—not jes' because he's made his jack!”
XLIII
And childern.—Childern? Lawzy-day! Doc worships 'em!—You callRound at his house and ast 'em!—they're a-swarmin' there—that's all!—
They're in his Lib'ry—in best room—in kitchen—fur and near,—
In office too, and, I p'sume, his operatin'-cheer!
XLIV
You know they's men 'at bees won't sting?—They's plaguy few,—But DocHe's one o' them.—And same, i jing! with childern;—they jes' flock
Round Sifers natchurl!—in his lap, and in his pockets, too,
And in his old fur mitts and cap, and heart as warm and true!
1872
XLV
It's cur'ous, too,—'cause Doc hain't got no childern of his own—'Ceptin' the ones he's tuk and brought up, 'at's bin left alone
And orphans when their father died, er mother,—and Doc he
Has he'pped their dyin' satisfied.—“The child shall live with me
XLVI
“And Winniferd, my wife,” he'd say, and stop right there, and cle'rHis th'oat, and go on thinkin' way some mother-hearts down here
Can't never feel their own babe's face a-pressin' 'em, ner make
Their naked breasts a restin'-place fer any baby's sake.
XLVII
Doc's Lib'ry—as he calls it,—well, they's ha'f-a-dozen she'vesJam-full o' books—I couldn't tell how many—count yourse'ves!
One whole she'f's Works on Medicine! and most the rest's about
First Settlement, and Indians in here,—'fore we driv 'em out.—
1873
XLVIII
And Plutarch's Lives—and life also o' Dan'el Boone, and this-Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe—jes' all the lives they is!
And Doc's got all the novels out,—by Scott and Dickison
And Cooper.—And, I make no doubt, he's read 'em ever' one!
XLIX
Onc't, in his office, settin' there, with crowd o'eight er nineOld neighbers with the time to spare, and Doc a-feelin' fine,
A man rid up from Rollins, jes' fer Doc to write him out
Some blame' p'scription—done, I guess, in minute, nigh about.—
L
And I says, “Doc, you 'pear so spry, jes' write me that recei'tYou have fer bein' happy by,—fer that 'ud shorely beat
Your medicine!” says I.—And quick as s'cat! Doc turned and writ
And handed me: “Go he'p the sick, and putt your heart in it.”
1874
LI
And then, “A-talkin' furder 'bout that line o' thought,” says he,“Ef we'll jes' do the work cut out and give' to you and me,
We'll lack no joy, ner appetite, ner all we'd ort to eat,
And sleep like childern ever' night—as puore and ca'm and sweet.”
LII
Doc has bin 'cused o' offishness and lack o' talkin' freeAnd extry friendly; but he says, “I'm 'feard o' talk,” says he,—
“I've got,” he says, “a natchurl turn fer talkin' fit to kill.—
The best and hardest thing to learn is trick o' keepin' still.”
LIII
Doc kin smoke, and I s'pose he might drink licker—jes' fer fun.He says, “You smoke, you drink all right; but I don't—neether one”—
Says, “I like whisky—'good old rye'—but like it in its place,
Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your face.”
1875
LIV
Doc's bound to have his joke! The day he got that off on meI jes' had sold a load o' hay at “Scofield's Livery,”
And tolled Doc in the shed they kep' the hears't in, where I'd hid
The stuff 'at got me “out o' step,” as Sifers said it did.
LV
Doc hain't, to say, no “rollin' stone,” and yit he hain't no handFer 'cumulatin'.—Home's his own, and scrap o' farmin'-land—
Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down sick
The suddentest—'most any day they want him 'special quick.
LVI
And yit Doc loves his practise; ner don't, wilful, want to slightNo call—no matter who—how fur away—er day er night.—
He loves his work—he loves his friends—June, Winter, Fall, and Spring:
His lovin'—facts is—never ends; he loves jes' ever'thing. ...
1876
LVII
'Cept—keepin' books. He never sets down no accounts.—He hates,The worst of all, collectin' debts—the worst, the more he waits.—
I've knowed him, when at last he had to dun a man, to end
By makin' him a loan—and mad he hadn't more to lend.
LVIII
When Pence's Drug Store ust to be in full blast, they wuz someDoc's patients got things frekantly there, charged to him, i gum!—
Doc run a bill there, don't you know, and allus when he squared,
He never questioned nothin',—so he had his feelin's spared.
LIX
Now sich as that, I hold and claim, hain't 'scusable—it's notPerfessional!—It's jes' a shame 'at Doc hisse'f hain't got
No better business-sense! That's why lots 'd respect him more,
And not give him the clean go-by fer other doctors. Shore!
1877
LX
This-here Doc Glenn, fer instance; er this little jack-leg Hall;—They're business—folks respects 'em fer their business more'n all
They ever knowed, er ever will, 'bout medicine.—Yit they
Collect their money, k-yore er kill.—They're business, anyway!
LXI
You ast Jake Dunn:—he's worked it out in figgers.—He kin showStatistics how Doc's airnt about three fortunes in a row,—
Ever' ten-year' hand-runnin' straight—three of 'em—thirty year'
'At Jake kin count and 'lucidate o' Sifer's practise here.
LXII
Yit—“Praise the Lord,” says Doc, “we've got out little home!” says he—“(It's railly Winniferd's, but what she owns, she sheers with me.)
We' got our little gyarden-spot, and peach and apple trees,
And stable, too, and chicken-lot, and eighteen hive' o' bees.”
1878
LXIII
You call it anything you please, but it's witchcraft—the power'At Sifers has o' handlin' bees!—He'll watch 'em by the hour—
Mix right amongst 'em, mad and hot and swarmin'!—yit they won't
Sting him, er want to—'pear to not,—at least I know they don't.
LXIV
With me and bees they's no p'tense o' socialbility—A dad-burn bee 'ud climb a fence to git a whack at me!
I s'pose no thing 'at's got a sting is railly satisfied
It's sharp enough, ontel, i jing! he's honed it on my hide!
LXV
And Doc he's allus had a knack inventin' things.—Dee-visedA windlass wound its own se'f back as it run down: and s'prised
Their new hired girl with clothes-line, too, and clothes-pins, all in one:
Purt' nigh all left fer her to do wuz git her primpin' done!
1879
LXVI
And onc't, I mind, in airly Spring, and tappin' sugar trees,Doc made a dad-burn little thing to sharpen spiles with—these-
Here wood'-spouts 'at the peth's punched out, and driv' in where they bore
The auger-holes. He sharpened 'bout a million spiles er more!
LXVII
And Doc's the first man ever swung a bucket on a treeInstid o' troughs; and first man brung grained sugar—so's 'at he
Could use it fer his coffee, and fer cookin', don't you know.—
Folks come clean up from Pleasantland 'fore they'd believe it, though!
LXVIII
And all Doc's stable-doors onlocks and locks theirse'ves—and gatesThe same way;—all rigged up like clocks, with pulleys, wheels, and weights,—
So, 's Doc says, “Drivin' out, er in, they'll open; and they'll then,
All quiet-like, shet up ag'in like little gentlemen!”
1880
LXIX
And Doc 'ud made a mighty good detective.—Neighbers allWill testify to that—er could, ef they wuz legal call:
His theories on any crime is worth your listenin' to.—
And he has hit 'em, many a time, long 'fore established true.
LXX
At this young druggist Wenfield Pence's trial fer his life,On primy faishy evidence o' pizonin' his wife,
Doc's testimony saved and cle'red and 'quitted him and freed
Him so's he never even 'peared cog-nizant of the deed!
LXXI
The facts wuz—Sifers testified,—at inquest he had foundThe stummick showed the woman died o' pizon, but had downed
The dos't herse'f,—because amount and cost o' drug imployed
No druggist would, on no account, 'a' lavished and distroyed!
1881
LXXII
Doc tracked a blame-don burglar down, and nailed the scamp, to boot,But told him ef he'd leave the town he wouldn't prosecute.
He traced him by a tied-up thumb-print in fresh putty, where
Doc glazed it. Jes' that's how he come to track him to his lair!
LXXIII
Doc's jes' a leetle too inclined, some thinks, to overlookThe criminal and vicious kind we'd ort to bring to book
And punish, 'thout no extry show o' sympathizin', where
They hain't showed none fer us, you know. But he takes issue there:
LXXIV
Doc argies 'at “The Red-eyed Law,” as he says, “ort to learnTo lay a mighty leenient paw on deeds o' sich concern
As only the Good Bein' knows the wherefore of, and spreads
His hands above accused and sows His mercies on their heads.”
1882
LXXV
Doc even holds 'at murder hain't no crime we got a rightTo hang a man fer—claims it's taint o' lunacy, er quite.—
“Hold sich a man responsibul fer murder,” Doc says,—“then,
When he's hung, where's the rope to pull them sound-mind jurymen?
LXXVI
“It's in a nutshell—all kin see,” says Doc,—“it's cle'r the Law'sAs ap' to err as you er me, and kill without a cause:
The man most innocent o' sin I've saw, er 'spect to see,
Wuz servin' a life-sentence in the penitentchury.”
LXXVII
And Doc's a whole hand at a fire!—directin' how and whereTo set your ladders, low er higher, and what first duties air,—
Like formin' warter-bucket-line; and best man in the town
To chop holes in old roofs, and mine defective chimblies down:
1883
LXXVIII
Er durin' any public crowd, mass-meetin', er big day,Where ladies ortn't be allowed, as I've heerd Sifers say,—
When they's a suddent rush somewhere, it's Doc's voice, ca'm and cle'r,
Says, “Fall back, men, and give her air!—that's all she's faintin' fer.”
LXXIX
The sorriest I ever feel fer Doc is when some showEr circus comes to town and he'll not git a chance to go.
'Cause he jes' natchurly delights in circuses—clean down
From tumblers, in their spangled tights, to trick-mule and Old Clown.
LXXX
And ever'body knows it, too, how Doc is, thataway! ...I mind a circus onc't come through—wuz there myse'f that day.—
Ring-master cracked his whip, you know, to start the ridin'—when
In runs Old Clown and hollers “Whoa!—Ladies and gentlemen
1884
LXXXI
“Of this vast audience, I fain would make inquiry cle'r,And learn, find out, and ascertain—Is Doctor Sifers here?”
And when some fool-voice bellers down: “He is! He's settin' in
Full view o' ye!” “Then,” says the Clown, “the circus may begin!”
LXXXII
Doc's got a temper; but, he says, he's learnt it which is boss,Yit has to watch it, more er less. ... I never seen him cross
But onc't, enough to make him swear;—milch-cow stepped on his toe,
And Doc ripped out “I doggies!”—There's the only case I know.
LXXXIII
Doc says that's what your temper's fer—to hold back out o' view,And learn it never to occur on out ahead o' you.—
“You lead the way,” says Sifers—“git your temper back in line—
And furdest back the best, ef it's as mean a one as mine!”
1885
LXXXIV
He hates contentions—can't abide a wrangle er disputeO' any kind; and he 'ull slide out of a crowd and skoot
Up some back-alley 'fore he'll stand and listen to a furse
When ary one's got upper-hand and t'other one's got worse.
LXXXV
Doc says: “I 'spise, when pore and weak and awk'ard talkers fails,To see it's them with hardest cheek and loudest mouth pervails.—
A' all-one-sided quarr'l'll make me biassed, mighty near,—
'Cause ginerly the side I take's the one I never hear.”
LXXXVI
What 'peals to Doc the most and best is “seein' folks agreed,And takin' ekal interest and universal heed
O' ever'body else's words and idies—same as we
Wuz glad and chirpy as the birds—jes' as we'd ort to be!”
1886
LXXXVII
And paterotic! Like to git Doc started, full and fair,About the war, and why 't'uz fit, and what wuz 'complished there;
“And who wuz wrong,” says Doc, “er right, 't'uz waste o' blood and tears,
All prophesied in Black and White fer years and years and years!”
LXXXVIII
And then he'll likely kind o' tetch on old John Brown, and dwellOn what his warnin's wuz; and ketch his breath and cough, and tell
On down to Lincoln's death. And then—well, he jes' chokes and quits
With “I must go now, gentlemen!” and grabs his hat, and gits!
LXXXIX
Doc's own war-rickord wuzn't won so much in line o' fightAs line o' work and nussin' done the wownded, day and night.—
His wuz the hand, through dark and dawn, 'at bound their wownds, and laid
As soft as their own mother's on their forreds when they prayed. ...
1887
XC
His wuz the face they saw the first—all dim, but smilin' bright,As they come to and knowed the worst, yit saw the old Red-White-
And-Blue where Doc had fixed it where they'd see it wavin' still,
Out through the open tent-flap there, er 'crost the winder-sill.
XCI
And some's a-limpin' round here yit—a-waitin' Last Review,—'Ud give the pensions 'at they git, and pawn their crutches, too,
To he'p Doc out, ef he wuz pressed financial'—same as he
Has allus he'pped them when distressed—ner never tuk a fee.
XCII
Doc never wuz much hand to pay attention to p'tenseAnd fuss-and-feathers and display in men o' prominence:
“A railly great man,” Sifers 'lows, “is not the out'ard dressed—
All uniform, salutes and bows, and swellin' out his chest.
1888
XCIII
“I met a great man onc't,” Doc says, “and shuk his hand,” says he,“And he come 'bout in one, I guess, o' disapp'intin' me—
He talked so common-like, and brought his mind so cle'r in view
And simple-like, I purt' nigh thought, ‘I'm best man o' the two!’”
XCIV
Yes-sir! Doc's got convictions and old-fashioned kind o' waysAnd idies 'bout this glorious Land o' Freedom; and he'll raise
His hat clean off, no matter where, jes' ever' time he sees
The Stars and Stripes a-floatin' there and flappin' in the breeze.
XCV
And tunes like old “Red-White-and-Blue” 'll fairly drive him wild,Played on the brass band, marchin' through the streets! Jes' like a child
I've saw that man, his smile jes' set, all kind o' pale and white,
Bareheaded, and his eyes all wet, yit dancin' with delight!
1889
XCVI
And yit, that very man we see all trimbly, pale and wann,Give him a case o' surgery, we'll see another man!—
We'll do the trimblin' then, and we'll git white around the gills—
He'll show us nerve o' nerves, and he 'ull show us skill o' skills!
XCVII
Then you could toot your horns and beat your drums and bang your guns,And wave your flags and march the street, and charge, all Freedom's sons!—
And Sifers then, I bet my hat, 'ud never flinch a hair,
But, stiddy-handed, 'tend to that pore patient layin' there.
XCVIII
And Sifers' eye's as stiddy as that hand o' his!—He'll shootA' old-style rifle, like he has, and smallest bore, to boot,
With any fancy rifles made to-day, er expert shot
'At works at shootin' like a trade—and all some of 'em's got!
1890
XCIX
Let 'em go right out in the woods with Doc, and leave their “traps”And blame' glass-balls and queensware-goods, and see how Sifers draps
A squirrel out the tallest tree.—And 'fore he fires he'll say
Jes' where he'll hit him—yes, sir-ee! And he's hit thataway!
C
Let 'em go out with him, i jucks! with fishin'-pole and gun,—And ekal chances, fish and ducks, and take the rain, er sun,
Jes' as it pours, er as it blinds the eyesight; then I guess
'At they'd acknowledge, in their minds, their disadvantages.
CI
And yit he'd be the last man out to flop his wings and crowInsultin'-like, and strut about above his fallen foe!—
No-sir! the hand 'at tuk the wind out o' their sails 'ud be
The very first they grabbed, and grinned to feel sich sympathy.
1891
CII
Doc gits off now and then and takes a huntin'-trip somewhere'Bout Kankakee, up 'mongst the lakes—sometimes'll drift round there
In his canoe a week er two; then paddle clean on back
By way o' old Wabash and Blue, with fish—all he kin pack,—
CIII
And wild ducks—some with feathers on 'em yit, and stuffed with grass.And neighbers—all knows he's bin gone—comes round and gits a bass—
A great big double-breasted “rock,” er “black,” er maybe pair
Half fills a' ordinary crock. ... Doc's fish'll give out there
CIV
Long 'fore his ducks!—But folks'll smile and blandish him, and makeHim tell and tell things!—all the while enjoy 'em jes' fer sake
O' pleasin' him; and then turn in and la'nch him from the start
A-tellin' all the things ag'in they railly know by heart.
1892
CV
He's jes' a child, 's what Sifers is! And-sir, I'd ruther seeThat happy, childish face o' his, and puore simplicity,
Than any shape er style er plan o' mortals otherwise—
With perfect faith in God and man a-shinin' in his eyes.
TAMÁM
The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | ||