The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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MOONSHINER'S SERENADE |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1963
MOONSHINER'S SERENADE
The night's blind-black, an' I 'low the stars's
All skeered at that-air dog's bow-wows!
I sensed the woods-road, clumb the bars,
An' arrove here, tromplin' over cows.
The mist hangs thick enough to cut,
But there's her light a-glimmerin' through
The mornin'-glories, twisted shut—
An' shorely there's her shadder too!
All skeered at that-air dog's bow-wows!
I sensed the woods-road, clumb the bars,
An' arrove here, tromplin' over cows.
The mist hangs thick enough to cut,
But there's her light a-glimmerin' through
The mornin'-glories, twisted shut—
An' shorely there's her shadder too!
Ho! hit's good night,
My Beauty-Bright!
The moon cain't match your can'le-light—
Your can'le-light with you cain't shine,
Lau-ree! Lady-love! tiptoe-fine!
My Beauty-Bright!
The moon cain't match your can'le-light—
Your can'le-light with you cain't shine,
Lau-ree! Lady-love! tiptoe-fine!
Oomh! how them roses soaks the air!—
Thess drenched with mist an' renched with dew!
They's a smell o' plums, too, 'round somewhere—
An' I kin smell ripe apples, too.
Mix all them sweet things into one,—
Yer roses, fruit, an' flower an' vine,
Yit I'll say, “No, I don't choose none,
Ef I kin git that gal of mine!”
Thess drenched with mist an' renched with dew!
They's a smell o' plums, too, 'round somewhere—
An' I kin smell ripe apples, too.
Mix all them sweet things into one,—
Yer roses, fruit, an' flower an' vine,
Yit I'll say, “No, I don't choose none,
Ef I kin git that gal of mine!”
1964
Ho! hit's good night,
My Beauty-Bright!
Primp a while, an' blow out the light—
Putt me in your prayers, an' then
I'll be twic't as good-again!
My Beauty-Bright!
Primp a while, an' blow out the light—
Putt me in your prayers, an' then
I'll be twic't as good-again!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |