 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
407
DIALECT STUDIES.
409
MOMMA PHŒBE.
Ef my hah is de colo' o' silbah,
I ain't mo' d'n fifty yea' ole;
It tuck all dat whiteness f'om mo'nin',
An' weepin' an' tawtah o' soul.
Faw I los' bofe my dahlin' men-child'en—
De two hev done gone to deh res'—
My Jim, an' my mist'ess' Mahs' William,
De pah dat hev nussed at my breas'.
I ain't mo' d'n fifty yea' ole;
It tuck all dat whiteness f'om mo'nin',
An' weepin' an' tawtah o' soul.
Faw I los' bofe my dahlin' men-child'en—
De two hev done gone to deh res'—
My Jim, an' my mist'ess' Mahs' William,
De pah dat hev nussed at my breas'.
Miss' Lucy she mawied in Ap'il,
An' I done got mawied in May;
An' bofe o' our beautiful child'en
Wah bo'n de same time to a day.
But while I got bettah an' strongah,
Miss' Lucy got weakah an' wuss;
Den she died, an' dey guv me de baby,
De leetle Mahs' William, to nuss.
An' I done got mawied in May;
An' bofe o' our beautiful child'en
Wah bo'n de same time to a day.
But while I got bettah an' strongah,
Miss' Lucy got weakah an' wuss;
Den she died, an' dey guv me de baby,
De leetle Mahs' William, to nuss.
De two boys weh fotch up togeddah,
Miss' Lucy's alongside o' mine;
Ef one got hisse'f into mischief,
De uddah weh not fuh behine.
When Mahs' William he went to de college,
Why, nuffin' on ahf den won' do,
But Jeemes, his milk-bruddah, faw sahbent,
Mus' git an' mus' go wid him too.
Miss' Lucy's alongside o' mine;
Ef one got hisse'f into mischief,
De uddah weh not fuh behine.
When Mahs' William he went to de college,
Why, nuffin' on ahf den won' do,
But Jeemes, his milk-bruddah, faw sahbent,
Mus' git an' mus' go wid him too.
Dey come back in fo' yea' faw to stay yeh—
I allow 'twas the makin' o' Jim;
Setch a gemplum, de young colo'd weemen
Got pullin' deh caps dah faw him.
But he wasn't a patch to Mahs' William,
Who'd grown up so gran' an' so tall;
An' he hadn't fo'got his ole momma,
Faw he hugged me, he did, fo' dem all.
I allow 'twas the makin' o' Jim;
Setch a gemplum, de young colo'd weemen
Got pullin' deh caps dah faw him.
410
Who'd grown up so gran' an' so tall;
An' he hadn't fo'got his ole momma,
Faw he hugged me, he did, fo' dem all.
Den Mahs' Dudley was tuck wid de fevah,
An' I nussed him, po' man, to de las';
An' my husban', Ben Prossah, he cotch it,
An' bofe f'om dis life dey done pas'.
Mahs' William, he run de plantation,
But de niggahs could easy fool him;
An' de place would have all come to nuffin',
Ef 'twant faw old momma an' Jim.
An' I nussed him, po' man, to de las';
An' my husban', Ben Prossah, he cotch it,
An' bofe f'om dis life dey done pas'.
Mahs' William, he run de plantation,
But de niggahs could easy fool him;
An' de place would have all come to nuffin',
Ef 'twant faw old momma an' Jim.
Well at las'—I dunno how dey done it,
An' jes' what de fightin' was faw—
But de No'f an' de Souf got a quarlin',
An' Mahs' William 'd go to de waw.
De folks roun' 'bout raised a squad'on,
An' faw capen de men 'lected him.
I prayed he'd stay home wid his people;
But he went, an' o' co'se he tuck Jim.
An' jes' what de fightin' was faw—
But de No'f an' de Souf got a quarlin',
An' Mahs' William 'd go to de waw.
De folks roun' 'bout raised a squad'on,
An' faw capen de men 'lected him.
I prayed he'd stay home wid his people;
But he went, an' o' co'se he tuck Jim.
It was gran' faw to see all dem hossmen
Dat numbah'd a hund'ed an' fo',
As dey sot up dah straight in deh saddles,
An' rid in fo' rows by de do'.
An' Mahs' William he sed as he passed me,
An' me a'most ready to cry,
“Take good cah o' you'se'f, Momma Phœbe;
Jim an' I'll be along yeh bimeby.”
Dat numbah'd a hund'ed an' fo',
As dey sot up dah straight in deh saddles,
An' rid in fo' rows by de do'.
An' Mahs' William he sed as he passed me,
An' me a'most ready to cry,
“Take good cah o' you'se'f, Momma Phœbe;
Jim an' I'll be along yeh bimeby.”
We hea' 'bout dem two sets a-fightin',
I reckon faw mo' d'n fo' yea';
An' bimeby we lahnt dat de Yankees
Wid deh ahmy was comin' quite neah.
An' den deh was fit a great battle,
Jes' ovah dat hill dat you sees;
We could hea' all de cannon a-roa'in',
An' see de smoke obah dem trees.
I reckon faw mo' d'n fo' yea';
An' bimeby we lahnt dat de Yankees
Wid deh ahmy was comin' quite neah.
411
Jes' ovah dat hill dat you sees;
We could hea' all de cannon a-roa'in',
An' see de smoke obah dem trees.
I sot in my cabin a-prayin'—
I t'ought o' my two boys dat day—
An' de noise it went fuddah an' fuddah,
Till all o' it melted away.
An' de sun it sot awful an' bloody,
An' a great pile o' fi' in de sky;
An' beyon' was de dead men a-lyin',
An' de wounded a-gwine for to die.
I t'ought o' my two boys dat day—
An' de noise it went fuddah an' fuddah,
Till all o' it melted away.
An' de sun it sot awful an' bloody,
An' a great pile o' fi' in de sky;
An' beyon' was de dead men a-lyin',
An' de wounded a-gwine for to die.
Den I riz an' I called faw ole Lem'el,
An' a couple o' mo' o' de boys;
An' s'I: “Now you saddle de hosses,
An' be kehful an' don't make no noise;
An' we'll go to de fiel' o' de battle
Afo' de las' bit o' de beams
O' daylight is gone, an' we'll look dah
Faw our young Mahs' William an' Jeemes.”
An' a couple o' mo' o' de boys;
An' s'I: “Now you saddle de hosses,
An' be kehful an' don't make no noise;
An' we'll go to de fiel' o' de battle
Afo' de las' bit o' de beams
O' daylight is gone, an' we'll look dah
Faw our young Mahs' William an' Jeemes.”
An' dey say: “Dey ain' dah, fah sahtin;
Deh's nuffin' de mattah, faw sho';
But seein' it's you, Momma Phœbe,
O' co'se all de boys yeh dey'll go.”
An' dey saddled an' bridled de hosses—
De bes' had been all tuck away—
An' we retched to de place o' de fightin'
Jes' close on de heels o' de day.
Deh's nuffin' de mattah, faw sho';
But seein' it's you, Momma Phœbe,
O' co'se all de boys yeh dey'll go.”
An' dey saddled an' bridled de hosses—
De bes' had been all tuck away—
An' we retched to de place o' de fightin'
Jes' close on de heels o' de day.
An', oh! what a sight deh wah, honey;
A sight you could nevvah fo'git;
De piles o' de dead an' de dyin'—
I see um afo' my eyes yit.
An' de blood an' de gashes was ghas'ly,
An' shibbe'd de soul to see,
Like the fiel' o' de big Ahmageddon,
Which yit is a-gwine for to be.
A sight you could nevvah fo'git;
De piles o' de dead an' de dyin'—
I see um afo' my eyes yit.
412
An' shibbe'd de soul to see,
Like the fiel' o' de big Ahmageddon,
Which yit is a-gwine for to be.
Den I hea'd a woice cryin' fah “wahtah!”
An' I toted de gode to de place,
An' den, as I guv him de drink dah,
My teahs dey fell ober his face.
Faw he was shot right froo de middle,
An' his mahstah lay dead dah by him;
An' he sed, s'e, “Is dat you dah, momma?”
An' I sed, s'I, “Is dat you dah, Jim?”
An' I toted de gode to de place,
An' den, as I guv him de drink dah,
My teahs dey fell ober his face.
Faw he was shot right froo de middle,
An' his mahstah lay dead dah by him;
An' he sed, s'e, “Is dat you dah, momma?”
An' I sed, s'I, “Is dat you dah, Jim?”
“It's what deh is lef' o' me, momma;
An' young Mahs' William's done gone;
But I foun' de chap dat kill' him,
An' he lies dah clove to de bone.
An' po' young Mahs' William, in dyin',
Dese wah de wo'ds dat he sed—
‘Jes' you tell you' Momma, Mom' Phœbe—’”
Den I scream, faw de dahlin' fall—dead!
An' young Mahs' William's done gone;
But I foun' de chap dat kill' him,
An' he lies dah clove to de bone.
An' po' young Mahs' William, in dyin',
Dese wah de wo'ds dat he sed—
‘Jes' you tell you' Momma, Mom' Phœbe—’”
Den I scream, faw de dahlin' fall—dead!
All batte'd an' shatte'd wid bullets,
An' hacked wid de bayonet an' swo'd;
An' bleedin' an' cut up an' mangled,
An' dead on de meadow so broad.
But what dah was lef' o' de bodies,
I tuck um, an' washed um, an' dress';
Faw I membah'd de deah blessed babies
Dat once drawed de milk f'om my breas'.
An' hacked wid de bayonet an' swo'd;
An' bleedin' an' cut up an' mangled,
An' dead on de meadow so broad.
But what dah was lef' o' de bodies,
I tuck um, an' washed um, an' dress';
Faw I membah'd de deah blessed babies
Dat once drawed de milk f'om my breas'.
Den on to de ole plantation
We toted de cawpses dat night,
An' we guv um a beautiful beh'yum,
De colo'd as well as de white.
An' I shall be jined to dem child'n
When de Jedgmen' Day comes on;
For God'll be good to Mom' Phœbe
When Gab'el is blowin' his ho'n.
We toted de cawpses dat night,
413
De colo'd as well as de white.
An' I shall be jined to dem child'n
When de Jedgmen' Day comes on;
For God'll be good to Mom' Phœbe
When Gab'el is blowin' his ho'n.
LEONARD GRIMLEIGH'S SHADOW.
Out in dat pahstah you see de two chimleys,
Dah whah de jimson an' dog-fennel grow?
Dat was de house o' de las' o' de Grimleighs—
Bo'n dah, an' live dah, an' die dah, faw sho,
Mahs' John an' Lennud.
Dah whah de jimson an' dog-fennel grow?
Dat was de house o' de las' o' de Grimleighs—
Bo'n dah, an' live dah, an' die dah, faw sho,
Mahs' John an' Lennud.
John was de oldes'—'twix' him an' de uddah
Mo' dan ten yeah—quite onlike in deh look:
Lennud was blue-eyed an' fah, like his muddah—
She was a daughtah o' ole Cunnel Brooke,
Down on Jeemes Rivvah.
Mo' dan ten yeah—quite onlike in deh look:
Lennud was blue-eyed an' fah, like his muddah—
She was a daughtah o' ole Cunnel Brooke,
Down on Jeemes Rivvah.
John, he was dahk, wid a face like cast i'on;
Hit pow'ful hahd ef you got in his way:
Wouldn't fo'give yeh, not ef yeh wah dyin'—
Not on yeh knees ef yeh got down to pray,
Axin' faw mahsy.
Hit pow'ful hahd ef you got in his way:
Wouldn't fo'give yeh, not ef yeh wah dyin'—
Not on yeh knees ef yeh got down to pray,
Axin' faw mahsy.
Bofe had high tempahs, faw all o' de Grimleighs—
Hot-headed people—had got in de sons;—
Plenty o' ile an' de lamp won't bu'n dimly—
Long as de spring flows de little branch runs:
Dat's human natah.
Hot-headed people—had got in de sons;—
Plenty o' ile an' de lamp won't bu'n dimly—
Long as de spring flows de little branch runs:
Dat's human natah.
414
Nevvadeless, dey wuhkt well in de hahness;
Raised a gran' sight o' tobacco an' co'n:
John was a leetle mo' pushin' an' ahnes'—
Driv us like Jehu, an' huhied us on,
Seed-time an' hahves'.
Raised a gran' sight o' tobacco an' co'n:
John was a leetle mo' pushin' an' ahnes'—
Driv us like Jehu, an' huhied us on,
Seed-time an' hahves'.
How dey fell out was account of a woman—
Women an' mischief ah easy to jine:
She was a daughtah o' Absalom Trueman—
Lived with heh folks nigh de Buckin'm line,
Off in Prince Edwa'd.
Women an' mischief ah easy to jine:
She was a daughtah o' Absalom Trueman—
Lived with heh folks nigh de Buckin'm line,
Off in Prince Edwa'd.
Dunno whahuvvah Mahs' Lennud fus' met heh—
Sahtin she nevvah had bin to de Oaks:
Dessay dat Betty hehse'f mought bin bettah,
But all de fam'ly wah mighty low folks,
Meanes' o' white trash.
Sahtin she nevvah had bin to de Oaks:
Dessay dat Betty hehse'f mought bin bettah,
But all de fam'ly wah mighty low folks,
Meanes' o' white trash.
Long 'fo' we knowed it, repotes wah a-floatin'
'Bout whah Mahs' Lennud was ahtah a wife;
But when Mahs' John was infawmed o' de co'tin',
Nevvah I see setch a sight in my life—
Tell yeh, 'twah awful!
'Bout whah Mahs' Lennud was ahtah a wife;
But when Mahs' John was infawmed o' de co'tin',
Nevvah I see setch a sight in my life—
Tell yeh, 'twah awful!
“Saddle Glencoe! tote him roun' to de do'-step!
Tell you' Mahs' Lennud to stay tell I come!
Back yeh on Monday. Remembah! don't o'step
Jes' what I awdah! On all dis be dumb,
Else—” Den he galloped.
Tell you' Mahs' Lennud to stay tell I come!
Back yeh on Monday. Remembah! don't o'step
Jes' what I awdah! On all dis be dumb,
Else—” Den he galloped.
Lennud stayed home, an' on Monday, at dinnah,
John he come back. S'e, “I stopt at de mill.
Sampson, de millah—de white-headed sinnah—
'S done gone got mahwied.” S'e, Lennud, “What! Bill?
Who is de woman?”
John he come back. S'e, “I stopt at de mill.
Sampson, de millah—de white-headed sinnah—
'S done gone got mahwied.” S'e, Lennud, “What! Bill?
Who is de woman?”
415
“No-account gal, whom you used to admiah—
Dat Betty Trueman.” Up, Lennud, he sprung:
“John, you' a fool!”—an' his blue eyes flashed fiah;
“God rain his cuss on de false, bittah tongue,
Black wid setch slandah!”
Dat Betty Trueman.” Up, Lennud, he sprung:
“John, you' a fool!”—an' his blue eyes flashed fiah;
“God rain his cuss on de false, bittah tongue,
Black wid setch slandah!”
Lennud run out, made 'em saddle Brown Chicken,
Mounted an' rid 's ef de devil wah roun':
Tell you, dat hoss got a pow'ful shahp lickin'—
Wasn't allowed to move slow on de groun'
Ondah Mahs' Lennud.
Mounted an' rid 's ef de devil wah roun':
Tell you, dat hoss got a pow'ful shahp lickin'—
Wasn't allowed to move slow on de groun'
Ondah Mahs' Lennud.
Soon he come back, lookin' white as de ashes—
Lookin' as ef he'd jes' riz from de dead:
Nevvah a-raisin' his eyes from de lashes,
Mutt'in', an' moanin', an' shakin' his head,
Like one dist'acted.
Lookin' as ef he'd jes' riz from de dead:
Nevvah a-raisin' his eyes from de lashes,
Mutt'in', an' moanin', an' shakin' his head,
Like one dist'acted.
Mo' dan a yeah nuvvah spoke to his bruddah,
Moped 'bout de place all de while—den he lef':
John tuck it hahd, on account o' his muddah,
Long dead an' gone: no use wastin' his bref—
Lennud was bittah.
Moped 'bout de place all de while—den he lef':
John tuck it hahd, on account o' his muddah,
Long dead an' gone: no use wastin' his bref—
Lennud was bittah.
As faw po' Betty, she suffe'd, depend on't,
Knowed she'd been fooled by heh people an' John:
Den she done died; an' dat wasn't de end on't—
Satan has pow', sah, as sho as you' bo'n.
Dis was de upshot.
Knowed she'd been fooled by heh people an' John:
Den she done died; an' dat wasn't de end on't—
Satan has pow', sah, as sho as you' bo'n.
Dis was de upshot.
Mos' uvry pusson de fun'al attended—
Sampson was very much 'spected aroun'—
John wid de res'; an' afo' it was ended
Lennud hisse'f come an' stood on de groun'
Cloast by de coffin.
Sampson was very much 'spected aroun'—
John wid de res'; an' afo' it was ended
Lennud hisse'f come an' stood on de groun'
Cloast by de coffin.
416
Den, when de las' o' de ahf had bin shoveled,
Lennud looked up to his bruddah, an' s'e,
“Cold in you' puppose, to gain it you groveled:
You've done de wuhk, bofe faw huh an' faw me.
Let it rest on yeh!”
Lennud looked up to his bruddah, an' s'e,
“Cold in you' puppose, to gain it you groveled:
You've done de wuhk, bofe faw huh an' faw me.
Let it rest on yeh!”
John, s'e, “So let it! You' angah I braved it—
'Twas faw you' honah, which you would have stained,
Taintin' de blood o' de Grimleighs; I saved it.
You would have crawled whah you' si' had disdained
Even to tromple.”
'Twas faw you' honah, which you would have stained,
Taintin' de blood o' de Grimleighs; I saved it.
You would have crawled whah you' si' had disdained
Even to tromple.”
Lennud, s'e, “You' talk o' blood, woman-slayah!
Winnah by falsehood! You made huh believe
I was a scound'el who wooed to betray huh—
Pledged to anuddah. You stooped to deceive—
Dah lies you' honah!
Winnah by falsehood! You made huh believe
I was a scound'el who wooed to betray huh—
Pledged to anuddah. You stooped to deceive—
Dah lies you' honah!
“My cawpse de nex' one, an' when you've succeeded,
God jedge my cause as he pities my woe.
Note me! De hou' dat I die, be it heeded,
Dahf'om my shadow afo' you shall go,
P'intin' to jedgment!”
God jedge my cause as he pities my woe.
Note me! De hou' dat I die, be it heeded,
Dahf'om my shadow afo' you shall go,
P'intin' to jedgment!”
Sho as you live, when he said dat he growed dah
Fawty foot high, an' look' down on de crowd:
John didn't answah. De hoss dat he rode dah
Mountin', he sed to me shahply an' loud,
“Home agin, Pompey!”
Fawty foot high, an' look' down on de crowd:
John didn't answah. De hoss dat he rode dah
Mountin', he sed to me shahply an' loud,
“Home agin, Pompey!”
S'l, as we rid dah, “Mahs' John, you please show me
'Bout what de hou' is.” S'e den, “It's jes' one!”
Den he wheel sudden; S'e, “Git on afo' me!
Dah whah you ride, you' 'twix' me an' de sun,
Keepin' me shadowed!”
'Bout what de hou' is.” S'e den, “It's jes' one!”
Den he wheel sudden; S'e, “Git on afo' me!
Dah whah you ride, you' 'twix' me an' de sun,
Keepin' me shadowed!”
417
“Law bless you' soul,” s'I, “Mahs' John, you amuse me!
Sho you know, honey, I keeps in my place;
Dat is onpossible what you accuse me!
Look at de sun; why, it shines in you' face.”
Den how he trembled.
Sho you know, honey, I keeps in my place;
Dat is onpossible what you accuse me!
Look at de sun; why, it shines in you' face.”
Den how he trembled.
“Pompey,” he sed den, s'e—“turn roun' de cretahs;
Lennud is dead!” S'I—“Whahfo' dat so?
Whahfo' you skah me so?” “See ef dem featahs,
Outlined in shade on de groun' dah you know.”
God! dey was Lennud's!
Lennud is dead!” S'I—“Whahfo' dat so?
Whahfo' you skah me so?” “See ef dem featahs,
Outlined in shade on de groun' dah you know.”
God! dey was Lennud's!
Den as he spoke, heahd a hoss a come poundin',
Clatt'in' an' clinkin' his feet down de road:
John sot dah white-faced—I t'ought he was swoundin';
Law bless you, boss, in his ownse'f he knowed
What was de message.
Clatt'in' an' clinkin' his feet down de road:
John sot dah white-faced—I t'ought he was swoundin';
Law bless you, boss, in his ownse'f he knowed
What was de message.
Man on de hoss saw at once dat we knowed it;
All tuhnd our hosses an' galloped like mad:
Jes' as we retched to de road-fawks we slowed it:
Dah, on a settle, dey toted de lad,
Dead, broken-hahted.
All tuhnd our hosses an' galloped like mad:
Jes' as we retched to de road-fawks we slowed it:
Dah, on a settle, dey toted de lad,
Dead, broken-hahted.
“Set him down dah in de road,” s'e, John, trim'ly;
Lit from his hoss in de face o' de sky—
Kissed de po' cawpse, an' s'e, “You ah a Grimleigh!
You kep' you' honah, an' you didn't lie,
Shamin' you' people!”
Lit from his hoss in de face o' de sky—
Kissed de po' cawpse, an' s'e, “You ah a Grimleigh!
You kep' you' honah, an' you didn't lie,
Shamin' you' people!”
We didn't tech him—we waited his risin':
He didn't move—his hands ovah his head:
Blood f'om his mouf, in a mannah su'prisin',
Gushed in a stream on de face o' de dead—
Bofe dead togeddah.
He didn't move—his hands ovah his head:
Blood f'om his mouf, in a mannah su'prisin',
Gushed in a stream on de face o' de dead—
Bofe dead togeddah.
418
People all said dat de house dah was haunted;
No one would live dah—dey held it in awe;
Boldes' o' men faw to stay dah wah daunted;
Den de Yanks bu'n'd it las' yeah o' de waw:
So went de Grimleighs.
No one would live dah—dey held it in awe;
Boldes' o' men faw to stay dah wah daunted;
Den de Yanks bu'n'd it las' yeah o' de waw:
So went de Grimleighs.
CÆSAR ROWAN.
Yes, I heern about de proclamation—
Ole Mas' Linkum's—dessay, boss, it's right;
But fo' seventy yeah on dis plantation
Young Mas' Jeemes an' I have fit de fight,
An' to-day
Whah I've bin I mean to stay.
Ole Mas' Linkum's—dessay, boss, it's right;
But fo' seventy yeah on dis plantation
Young Mas' Jeemes an' I have fit de fight,
An' to-day
Whah I've bin I mean to stay.
Don't p'ecisely know how ole I be, sah;
But I 'memb' dat ole Mas' Rowan sed,
“No use tellin' me about ow Cesah;
He was ten when Cousin John went dead—
Ten fo' sho”—
Dat was sixty yeah ago.
But I 'memb' dat ole Mas' Rowan sed,
“No use tellin' me about ow Cesah;
He was ten when Cousin John went dead—
Ten fo' sho”—
Dat was sixty yeah ago.
Heah I've bin upon de ole plantation
Evvah sence—knowed all de folks aroun'.
What's de use o' makin' a noration?
Deh all dead, done gone, an' ondergroun',
So it seems;
No one lef' but young Mas' Jeemes.
Evvah sence—knowed all de folks aroun'.
What's de use o' makin' a noration?
Deh all dead, done gone, an' ondergroun',
So it seems;
No one lef' but young Mas' Jeemes.
Him an' me were raised by ole Mas' Rowan.
High ole times, boss, mawnin', night, an' noon.
In de fields we wuhked whah hands were hoein';
In de woods we went to hunt de coon.
Wuhk an' play,
We were pardners ev'ry day.
High ole times, boss, mawnin', night, an' noon.
419
In de woods we went to hunt de coon.
Wuhk an' play,
We were pardners ev'ry day.
An' when he growed up an' went to college
Down at Williamsbu'g, I tell yuh den,
Cesah, he picked up a heap o' knowledge,
Tendin' on him 'mong de gentlemen—
Cesah dah,
Cesah heah, an' everywhah.
Down at Williamsbu'g, I tell yuh den,
Cesah, he picked up a heap o' knowledge,
Tendin' on him 'mong de gentlemen—
Cesah dah,
Cesah heah, an' everywhah.
Den he mawied—mawied Nancy Merritt,
Ginnul Petah's daughtah from Soufside.
Tell yuh, boss, she had a mighty sperrit,
Beauty—mps! an' full o' grace an' pride;
Eyes so bright,
Fahly lit de house at night.
Ginnul Petah's daughtah from Soufside.
Tell yuh, boss, she had a mighty sperrit,
Beauty—mps! an' full o' grace an' pride;
Eyes so bright,
Fahly lit de house at night.
Young Mas' Randolph he come nex' Decembah,
Christmas-day, sah—ki! de time was good;
Eggnog plenty—dah I mus' remembah.
Cesah he got tight—o' co'se he would;
Drunk wid joy,
Kase Miss Nancy had a boy.
Christmas-day, sah—ki! de time was good;
Eggnog plenty—dah I mus' remembah.
Cesah he got tight—o' co'se he would;
Drunk wid joy,
Kase Miss Nancy had a boy.
Setch a boy as dat when he growed oldah!
Stout an' strong, de maken' of a man.
Dis yeh chin jes' retched up to his shouldah;
I was nowhah 'longside young Mas' Ran'—
Nowhah—no!
An' I ain't a dwarf fo' sho.
Stout an' strong, de maken' of a man.
Dis yeh chin jes' retched up to his shouldah;
I was nowhah 'longside young Mas' Ran'—
Nowhah—no!
An' I ain't a dwarf fo' sho.
Well, one day, I 'membah dat for sahtain,
We sot out wid grist fo' Sinkah's mill.
Young Mas' Jeemes sez, jes' as we were startin',
“Keep ole Cesah safe!” Sez he, “I will!
Yes, dat's so!
Bring back Cesah, wheddah no.”
We sot out wid grist fo' Sinkah's mill.
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“Keep ole Cesah safe!” Sez he, “I will!
Yes, dat's so!
Bring back Cesah, wheddah no.”
Den he smile, Mas' Ran' he smile dat mawnin'
Like an angel—yes, he did, po' boy!
No one seemed to have a mite o' wawnin'
What was comin' on to spile our joy.
Down de hill,
On we rode to Sinkah's mill.
Like an angel—yes, he did, po' boy!
No one seemed to have a mite o' wawnin'
What was comin' on to spile our joy.
Down de hill,
On we rode to Sinkah's mill.
Gwine dah, Rocky Branch was high an' roa'in';
Jes' above de mill de bridge we cros';
Puffick taw'ent off de dam was pou'in';
Fall in dah, boss, den you sho done los'.
I rid on;
Down de bridge went—I was gone.
Jes' above de mill de bridge we cros';
Puffick taw'ent off de dam was pou'in';
Fall in dah, boss, den you sho done los'.
I rid on;
Down de bridge went—I was gone.
Me an' hoss an' grist an' timbers fallin';
In we went, an' off we all were swep'.
Den I heah Mas' Randolph's voice a-callin',
“Hole fas', Cesah!” an' wid dat he leap'—
Nothin' mo'—
Den I loss all else fo' sho.
In we went, an' off we all were swep'.
Den I heah Mas' Randolph's voice a-callin',
“Hole fas', Cesah!” an' wid dat he leap'—
Nothin' mo'—
Den I loss all else fo' sho.
Seems to me I felt his fingahs tetch me,
Den I knowed no mo' ontwell I heah
Some one say, “De bottle yander retch me!
Gib'm a dram! He'll do now, nevah feah!”
Sez I den,
“Whah's Mas' Randolph, gentlemen?”
Den I knowed no mo' ontwell I heah
Some one say, “De bottle yander retch me!
Gib'm a dram! He'll do now, nevah feah!”
Sez I den,
“Whah's Mas' Randolph, gentlemen?”
Ev'ry one dah seemed to be dumfounded,
So I raise an' ax agin fo' him;
Den dey tole me young Mas' Ran' was drownded—
Hit his head agin a swingin' limb.
Drownded! dead!
“Po' ole Missus!” den I sed.
So I raise an' ax agin fo' him;
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Hit his head agin a swingin' limb.
Drownded! dead!
“Po' ole Missus!” den I sed.
Home de kawpse o' po' Mas' Ran' we kerried;
Dah was Missus—not a wuhd she spoke.
But she died de day dat he was buried;
Doctah Gahnett sed heh haht was broke—
She went dead
Wid a broken haht, he sed.
Dah was Missus—not a wuhd she spoke.
But she died de day dat he was buried;
Doctah Gahnett sed heh haht was broke—
She went dead
Wid a broken haht, he sed.
Sense de day we buried po' Miss Nancy,
Monsus bad times come to young Mas' Jeemes;
Dah he sits all day wropt up in fancy,
Eyes wide open, dreamin' daylight dreams.
But fo' me,
Dunno whah Mas' Jeemes would be.
Monsus bad times come to young Mas' Jeemes;
Dah he sits all day wropt up in fancy,
Eyes wide open, dreamin' daylight dreams.
But fo' me,
Dunno whah Mas' Jeemes would be.
Heah's de place whah him an' I were bawn in;
Heah we stay, an' heah we pottah roun',
Twell dey tote de pah of us some mawnin',
Way out yander to de buryin'-groun'.
Dah we'll lay
Waitin' fo' de Jedgmen' Day.
Heah we stay, an' heah we pottah roun',
Twell dey tote de pah of us some mawnin',
Way out yander to de buryin'-groun'.
Dah we'll lay
Waitin' fo' de Jedgmen' Day.
MAHS' LEWIS'S RIDE.
Evvah sence I kin remembah,
Dis place belong to de Blan's;
Held about six hund'ed akahs;
Wuhkt about twenty-one han's;
One o' de best o' plantations—
Dat's jest as sho as you' bo'n;
Raised a great heap o' tobacco;
Wasn't no eend to de co'n.
Dis place belong to de Blan's;
Held about six hund'ed akahs;
Wuhkt about twenty-one han's;
422
Dat's jest as sho as you' bo'n;
Raised a great heap o' tobacco;
Wasn't no eend to de co'n.
'Longed to Mahs' Dan'el, who raised me—
Den when he died, ow Miss Grace
Mawied huh cousin, Mahs' Lewis—
Dat's how he come by de place.
He had bin raised in Prince Edwa'd,
Close on de Buckin'm line—
Mighty fine man was Mahs' Lewis!
Yes, sah! he was mighty fine.
Den when he died, ow Miss Grace
Mawied huh cousin, Mahs' Lewis—
Dat's how he come by de place.
He had bin raised in Prince Edwa'd,
Close on de Buckin'm line—
Mighty fine man was Mahs' Lewis!
Yes, sah! he was mighty fine.
See dat bay hoss in de pastah,
Dah wid his neck on de fence?
Mo' dan a good many people
Dat hoss has lahnin' an' sense.
Favo'ite hoss wid Mahs' Lewis;
Offen to me he has sed—
“I'll ride dat hoss, Uncle Petah,
Seems to me, ahter I'm dead.”
Dah wid his neck on de fence?
Mo' dan a good many people
Dat hoss has lahnin' an' sense.
Favo'ite hoss wid Mahs' Lewis;
Offen to me he has sed—
“I'll ride dat hoss, Uncle Petah,
Seems to me, ahter I'm dead.”
“Mighty quah hoss in de pastah?”—
Whah fo' he quah?—You dunno?
Kase o' de bah places on him?—
Dem's whah de woun's wah, fo' sho.
Dat hoss has bin in de battle,
Bin whah de blood's runnin' red;
Dat hoss come back from de battle,
Totin' de fo'm o' de dead.
Whah fo' he quah?—You dunno?
Kase o' de bah places on him?—
Dem's whah de woun's wah, fo' sho.
Dat hoss has bin in de battle,
Bin whah de blood's runnin' red;
Dat hoss come back from de battle,
Totin' de fo'm o' de dead.
Dis way it happen: De Yankees
Come yeh dat yeah in great fo'ce;
Grant was dah ginnul commandah—
Guv' em a pow'ful disco'se.
All o' de monsus grand skrimmage,
We f'om de po'ch yeh could see—
Yandah was Grant an' de Yankees;
Yandah de rebels an' Lee.
Come yeh dat yeah in great fo'ce;
Grant was dah ginnul commandah—
Guv' em a pow'ful disco'se.
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We f'om de po'ch yeh could see—
Yandah was Grant an' de Yankees;
Yandah de rebels an' Lee.
Yeh on de po'ch sot de mahstah;
Yandah smoke rose in de breeze;
Blue an' grey lines in de distance
Went in an' out o' de trees.
Dah we saw light in de distance
Flashin'—an' 'twasn't de sun's;
Hud de bim boom o' de cannons,
Hud de ping pang o' de guns.
Yandah smoke rose in de breeze;
Blue an' grey lines in de distance
Went in an' out o' de trees.
Dah we saw light in de distance
Flashin'—an' 'twasn't de sun's;
Hud de bim boom o' de cannons,
Hud de ping pang o' de guns.
Suddintly sung out Mahs' Lewis:
“Dah ah de cust Yankee cuhz!
Retch f'om de hooks dah my sabah!
Retch me my swo'd-belt an' spuhz!
Saddle an' bridle Suh Ahchy!
Bring him aroun' to de do'!
He'll tote me safe f'om de battle,
Aw I'll come back nevvah mo'!”
“Dah ah de cust Yankee cuhz!
Retch f'om de hooks dah my sabah!
Retch me my swo'd-belt an' spuhz!
Saddle an' bridle Suh Ahchy!
Bring him aroun' to de do'!
He'll tote me safe f'om de battle,
Aw I'll come back nevvah mo'!”
Den I felt bad. S'I, “Mahs' Lewis!
Knows you ain't fit fo' de waw;
You ah too ole fo' sitch fightin';
Bettah stay yeh whah you ah.”
S'e—an' his eyes flashed like fox-fire—
“Bring me Suh Ahchy, I say!
One man, dough aged an' feeble,
Might tu'n de tide o' the day.”
Knows you ain't fit fo' de waw;
You ah too ole fo' sitch fightin';
Bettah stay yeh whah you ah.”
S'e—an' his eyes flashed like fox-fire—
“Bring me Suh Ahchy, I say!
One man, dough aged an' feeble,
Might tu'n de tide o' the day.”
Well, sah, he'd heah to no reason,
Dahfo' Suh Ahchy I fotched;
An' when he rid down de high-road,
Yeh, I sot patient an' watched—
Watched yeh, an' lissent, an' lissent,
Hea'in' de rattle an' ro';
Seein' 'em, backwa'd an' fo'wa'd,
Blue an' grey lines come an' go.
Dahfo' Suh Ahchy I fotched;
An' when he rid down de high-road,
Yeh, I sot patient an' watched—
424
Hea'in' de rattle an' ro';
Seein' 'em, backwa'd an' fo'wa'd,
Blue an' grey lines come an' go.
So dey fit dah all de daylight,
Fit twell de sun had gone down;
Den come de dahkness an' silence
Shadin' de whole place aroun'.
Yeh, on de po'ch I sot waitin',
Waitin', an' dreckly I heah
Clank o' dat swo'd on de saddle,
Ring o' dat hoss comin' neah.
Fit twell de sun had gone down;
Den come de dahkness an' silence
Shadin' de whole place aroun'.
Yeh, on de po'ch I sot waitin',
Waitin', an' dreckly I heah
Clank o' dat swo'd on de saddle,
Ring o' dat hoss comin' neah.
Fastah an' fastah I heah 'em,
Poundin' an' poundin' de groun'—
“Lo'd be praised, dat is Mahs' Lewis!”—
Dat I knowed well by de soun'.
Up in a gallop, Suh Ahchy
Come to de po'ch, den he stah';
Dah, in de saddle, Mahs' Lewis
Sot like a captain so gran'.
Poundin' an' poundin' de groun'—
“Lo'd be praised, dat is Mahs' Lewis!”—
Dat I knowed well by de soun'.
Up in a gallop, Suh Ahchy
Come to de po'ch, den he stah';
Dah, in de saddle, Mahs' Lewis
Sot like a captain so gran'.
“Welcome back! Welcome, Mahs' Lewis!
Bet you made somumum die!
S'pose you 'light dah at de hoss-block;
Dat's a heap easier,” s'I.
Seein' he made me no answer,
Tetched him—Lo'd! how I did staht!
Dah he sot, stiff in de saddle,
Dead, sah! shot right froo de heaht!
Bet you made somumum die!
S'pose you 'light dah at de hoss-block;
Dat's a heap easier,” s'I.
Seein' he made me no answer,
Tetched him—Lo'd! how I did staht!
Dah he sot, stiff in de saddle,
Dead, sah! shot right froo de heaht!
425
“FOUND DEAD IN HIS BED.”
Dead in his bed thar, Miss Moser,
That's whar they found him to-day;
Kerried away without warnin'—
Took in a snap, you mought say.
Smilin' as ef he war sleepin',
Both his arms onder his head;
That was the kurriner's vardick—
“Stranger—found dead in his bed.”
That's whar they found him to-day;
Kerried away without warnin'—
Took in a snap, you mought say.
Smilin' as ef he war sleepin',
Both his arms onder his head;
That was the kurriner's vardick—
“Stranger—found dead in his bed.”
Yisterday he, at Squire Toney's,
Axt heaps of questions of John;
Lookt like a right friendly pusson—
Now the lone creatur' is gone.
So, I allow, my pore Benny
Died in some place fur away—
Some place I'll never diskiver
Now twell my own dyin' day.
Axt heaps of questions of John;
Lookt like a right friendly pusson—
Now the lone creatur' is gone.
So, I allow, my pore Benny
Died in some place fur away—
Some place I'll never diskiver
Now twell my own dyin' day.
Some beggin' furriner? Skeercely!
Must hev bin powerful rich!
Had a goold watch in his poke thar,
Great heaps of greenbacks, an' sich.
What brought him yer to the mountings
Nobody found out or knows.
Come yer from off the Ohio,
Lookin' for timber, I s'pose.
Must hev bin powerful rich!
Had a goold watch in his poke thar,
Great heaps of greenbacks, an' sich.
What brought him yer to the mountings
Nobody found out or knows.
Come yer from off the Ohio,
Lookin' for timber, I s'pose.
Ain't sich an old man, he, nuther—
Risin', I jedge, forty year;
Had an ole mother, too, likely—
Some one as held him as dear.
So, p'r'aps, my own darlin' Benny,
Him that I never'll see,
Died fur away among strangers—
Died somewhere else fur from me.
Risin', I jedge, forty year;
Had an ole mother, too, likely—
Some one as held him as dear.
426
Him that I never'll see,
Died fur away among strangers—
Died somewhere else fur from me.
Well, then, I'll tell you, Miss Moser,
Jes' how the thing come to be
(No, I don't mind it a mossel;
'Tis ruther a comfort to me)—
Jes' how the suckumst'nce happint,
How, on a bright summer day,
Thirty-one year come nex' August,
Benny, my boy, run away.
Jes' how the thing come to be
(No, I don't mind it a mossel;
'Tis ruther a comfort to me)—
Jes' how the suckumst'nce happint,
How, on a bright summer day,
Thirty-one year come nex' August,
Benny, my boy, run away.
Benny was allus projectin'
Works that he'd kerry right through.
Peert! well, he was, and detarmined—
Jes' what he sed he would do.
I let the honey, Miss Moser,
Do pooty much as he choose;
How could her son a lone widow,
How could a mother, refuse?
Works that he'd kerry right through.
Peert! well, he was, and detarmined—
Jes' what he sed he would do.
I let the honey, Miss Moser,
Do pooty much as he choose;
How could her son a lone widow,
How could a mother, refuse?
Hiram M'Comas—Dan's Hiram—
Lived up agin the P'int Ridge,
Down in the Cany Branch Hollow
(Thar's whar the Yanks built the bridge
Time they an' our folks war fightin');
Hiram a sailor had bin,
But had come back to the mountings,
Sayin' he'd die with his kin.
Lived up agin the P'int Ridge,
Down in the Cany Branch Hollow
(Thar's whar the Yanks built the bridge
Time they an' our folks war fightin');
Hiram a sailor had bin,
But had come back to the mountings,
Sayin' he'd die with his kin.
Benny he took so to Hiram—
Hiram who lived by himself
Full half a mile on the mounting,
Back on the uppermost shelf;
Liked to hear Hiram tell stories
All about big ships that swim
Out on the salt, stormy ocean—
Hiram, he took some to him.
Hiram who lived by himself
Full half a mile on the mounting,
Back on the uppermost shelf;
427
All about big ships that swim
Out on the salt, stormy ocean—
Hiram, he took some to him.
Well, I remember one mornin'
Forgyson's Nancy come down
Over the gap in the mounting,
Ridin' for store goods to town.
Benny come ridin' behind her—
He'd bin to Hiram's all night—
And ef that Hiram he hadn't
Marked him twell he was a sight.
Forgyson's Nancy come down
Over the gap in the mounting,
Ridin' for store goods to town.
Benny come ridin' behind her—
He'd bin to Hiram's all night—
And ef that Hiram he hadn't
Marked him twell he was a sight.
I never see sich a figger
When the pore boy was ondrest—
Speckled tattooin', he called it,
Over his arms an' his breast.
On his right arm was an anchor;
Jes' over that was a B;
Over the top was a criss-cross;
Onder it all was an E.
When the pore boy was ondrest—
Speckled tattooin', he called it,
Over his arms an' his breast.
On his right arm was an anchor;
Jes' over that was a B;
Over the top was a criss-cross;
Onder it all was an E.
You may allow that I washed him,
Tryin' to take it away;
Rubbed him an' scrubbed him all mornin',
Worked with him nigh half a day.
So I kept tryin' an' tryin'
Ontwell I thought I'd hev died;
Then I gin out in a passion,
An' I sot down thar an' cried.
Tryin' to take it away;
Rubbed him an' scrubbed him all mornin',
Worked with him nigh half a day.
So I kept tryin' an' tryin'
Ontwell I thought I'd hev died;
Then I gin out in a passion,
An' I sot down thar an' cried.
Benny looked up, an' sed, “Mother,
That's the way all sailors do.”
“Do they?” sez I; “then I'll larn you
Hiram sha'n't play tricks on you.”
Out came the switch from the corner,
An'—for my temper was riz—
Didn't I work on the creatur',
Tannin' that body of his!
That's the way all sailors do.”
“Do they?” sez I; “then I'll larn you
Hiram sha'n't play tricks on you.”
428
An'—for my temper was riz—
Didn't I work on the creatur',
Tannin' that body of his!
Benny he didn't an' wouldn't
Let out a tear or a cry;
“Mother,” he sed, “a true sailor
Wouldn't sing out ef he'd die.
Never you mind! now you're lickin',
Make it a good one, for shore
You kin jes' bet all your silver
Benny you'll never lick more.
Let out a tear or a cry;
“Mother,” he sed, “a true sailor
Wouldn't sing out ef he'd die.
Never you mind! now you're lickin',
Make it a good one, for shore
You kin jes' bet all your silver
Benny you'll never lick more.
“'Tisn't no use of your huggin'—
No, I won't give you a kiss!
See, ef I don't make you sorry—
Sorry you've licked me like this.
I'll run away for a sailor;
I'll be a pride to my kin;
Never twell he's a rich captain
You shell see Benny agin!”
No, I won't give you a kiss!
See, ef I don't make you sorry—
Sorry you've licked me like this.
I'll run away for a sailor;
I'll be a pride to my kin;
Never twell he's a rich captain
You shell see Benny agin!”
Then he run off up the Hollow;
That didn't give me a fright,
Reck'nin' he'd gone off to Hiram's,
Meanin' to stay thar all night.
But when I sent up nex' mornin',
Through me it went with a jar,
When the word came back from Hiram's,
Benny, he hadn't bin thar.
That didn't give me a fright,
Reck'nin' he'd gone off to Hiram's,
Meanin' to stay thar all night.
But when I sent up nex' mornin',
Through me it went with a jar,
When the word came back from Hiram's,
Benny, he hadn't bin thar.
When we had raised all the country,
By-an'-by up come a man,
Sayin' he'd seen sich a youngster'
Down at the mouth of Guyan.
Thar was the last we could trace him;
That was the last place he'd bin;
Thirty-one years come nex' August—
I never saw him agin.
By-an'-by up come a man,
Sayin' he'd seen sich a youngster'
Down at the mouth of Guyan.
429
That was the last place he'd bin;
Thirty-one years come nex' August—
I never saw him agin.
No! I've no hope that I'll see him;
P'r'aps when I'm dead we may meet;
Wonder ef he has a mother—
He that lies onder yan sheet?
Wonder ef his arm is speckled?
Let's turn the sleeve up, an' see:
God! O my Benny! my captain!
Have you, then, come back to me?
P'r'aps when I'm dead we may meet;
Wonder ef he has a mother—
He that lies onder yan sheet?
Wonder ef his arm is speckled?
Let's turn the sleeve up, an' see:
God! O my Benny! my captain!
Have you, then, come back to me?
JOHN KEMPSTONE.
Come in, an' take a cheer. Lavisy Ann,
You give the boy a seat. Jes' make as free
As ef at home. How old's the little man?
Not fourteen yit? Sho! Broke your axle-tree?—
Well—Jeemes'll fix it.
You give the boy a seat. Jes' make as free
As ef at home. How old's the little man?
Not fourteen yit? Sho! Broke your axle-tree?—
Well—Jeemes'll fix it.
I jedge you air a furriner by your clo'es—
Bad roads!—we mostly use the saddle here.
Crape on your hat—you've lost your wife, I s'pose?
So I allowed. Now mine is dead ten year—
She was a Dingess.
Bad roads!—we mostly use the saddle here.
Crape on your hat—you've lost your wife, I s'pose?
So I allowed. Now mine is dead ten year—
She was a Dingess.
Lookin' for timber? No! Don't mean to say
You're buyin' cattle? Thought that wasn't so;
You don't look like a drover nary way.
Ef I mought be so bold I'd like to know
What is your beezness?
You're buyin' cattle? Thought that wasn't so;
You don't look like a drover nary way.
Ef I mought be so bold I'd like to know
What is your beezness?
430
The Kemps'n' place!—why, no one's livin' thar—
Shet up, an' gone to ruin, I allow:
The house all rottin' down for want o' car',
The fences levelled—things left anyhow—
The fields in briers.
Shet up, an' gone to ruin, I allow:
The house all rottin' down for want o' car',
The fences levelled—things left anyhow—
The fields in briers.
The Colonel!—He's been dead this seven year—
Stood well, consid'r'n what he onderwent.
In trouble? Likely. Did you never hear?
His sin was followed by his punishment:
Seemed like a jedgment.
Stood well, consid'r'n what he onderwent.
In trouble? Likely. Did you never hear?
His sin was followed by his punishment:
Seemed like a jedgment.
A man of honor! Yaas! he never lied,
Nor cheated—ne'ther was the Kemps'n' way;
'Twarn't in the breed. They war too full of pride
To lie or cheat. Thar's whar the trouble lay
That wrought the mischief.
Nor cheated—ne'ther was the Kemps'n' way;
'Twarn't in the breed. They war too full of pride
To lie or cheat. Thar's whar the trouble lay
That wrought the mischief.
I was a boy when first the thing begun—
The Colonel he was fifty, or about,
An' had a quarrel with his oldes' son,
John Kemps'n', an' the way the two fell out
Was from a woman,
The Colonel he was fifty, or about,
An' had a quarrel with his oldes' son,
John Kemps'n', an' the way the two fell out
Was from a woman,
Of co'se. Thar air no quarrels hunted roun',
But weemen or whiskey allus starts the game:
It's been so, since old Adam trouble foun',
In the snake beezness, an' 't'll be the same
Forever 'n' ever.
But weemen or whiskey allus starts the game:
It's been so, since old Adam trouble foun',
In the snake beezness, an' 't'll be the same
Forever 'n' ever.
John fell in love with Hiram Doss's Ann,
That lived on Pigeon whar it heads agin
A branch of Twelve Pole. Hiram was a man
Not much respected. So that he could win,
He'd take all chances.
That lived on Pigeon whar it heads agin
A branch of Twelve Pole. Hiram was a man
Not much respected. So that he could win,
He'd take all chances.
431
Hiram was rich in cattle, lands, and cash;
Traded around in everything that paid;
Quick as a steel-trap; peert, but never rash;
Went in wharever money could be made,
An' had no scruples.
Traded around in everything that paid;
Quick as a steel-trap; peert, but never rash;
Went in wharever money could be made,
An' had no scruples.
His darter Nancy was his kin, not kind;
She ne'ther had his failin's nor his face:
He was a homely creatur' to my mind,
While gals like her war allus powerful sca'ce,
An' growin' sca'cer.
She ne'ther had his failin's nor his face:
He was a homely creatur' to my mind,
While gals like her war allus powerful sca'ce,
An' growin' sca'cer.
Ev'ry one liked her. No one wondered when
The Colonel's John fell dead in love with her.
A likely pa'r. John was the man of men—
You laugh, but that is so—all man—yes, sir!
Was that John Kemps'n'.
The Colonel's John fell dead in love with her.
A likely pa'r. John was the man of men—
You laugh, but that is so—all man—yes, sir!
Was that John Kemps'n'.
Some slenderer th'n you, but otherwise
Built on your pattern; but his skin was white,
An' yours is brown; some over middle size—
Except you stoop I jedge you'd reach his height—
Active an' soople.
Built on your pattern; but his skin was white,
An' yours is brown; some over middle size—
Except you stoop I jedge you'd reach his height—
Active an' soople.
John told his father he would marry Ann.
The Colonel laughed. “To spark the gal might do,
Though triflin' doesn't much become a man;
But such a mate was never meant for you
As Doss's darter.
The Colonel laughed. “To spark the gal might do,
Though triflin' doesn't much become a man;
But such a mate was never meant for you
As Doss's darter.
“I've nothin' to say agin the gal herself;
She's well enough perhaps; but Hiram Doss,
A man who'd sell his very soul for pelf—
A strain like ours with his should never cross—
Should not, and shall not.
She's well enough perhaps; but Hiram Doss,
A man who'd sell his very soul for pelf—
A strain like ours with his should never cross—
Should not, and shall not.
432
“Please your own fancy, but the day that sees
You Nancy's husband, sees you not my heir;
Ef you like better than a life of ease
To fight your way with her, go win and wear
Your wild-wood blossom.
You Nancy's husband, sees you not my heir;
Ef you like better than a life of ease
To fight your way with her, go win and wear
Your wild-wood blossom.
“I've other sons, an' one can take your place.
Thar's Guy—he wouldn't cross me in my will,
Nor on the name of Kemps'n' bring disgrace;
Give up this folly, boy, an' you are still
Pride of your father.”
Thar's Guy—he wouldn't cross me in my will,
Nor on the name of Kemps'n' bring disgrace;
Give up this folly, boy, an' you are still
Pride of your father.”
“Nevertheless I'll marry her,” said John:
“I pledged my word.” “Then keep your word, young sir!
That bein' lost, a Kemps'n's honor's gone;
But havin' kep' it, leave the place with her,
No more a Kemps'n'.”
“I pledged my word.” “Then keep your word, young sir!
That bein' lost, a Kemps'n's honor's gone;
But havin' kep' it, leave the place with her,
No more a Kemps'n'.”
How did I know all this? Well, I was young;
I'd sot out on an arrand to the crick,
An', comin' back, I crossed the corn among
Whar they wer' standin'—'twas a boy-like trick
To stan' an' lissen.
I'd sot out on an arrand to the crick,
An', comin' back, I crossed the corn among
Whar they wer' standin'—'twas a boy-like trick
To stan' an' lissen.
John married Nancy; but he didn't stay
With Nancy's father—'twix' the two thar wer'
No common feelin'—so he went away
Somewhar off norrud—must have been quite fur—
Never was heerd from.
With Nancy's father—'twix' the two thar wer'
No common feelin'—so he went away
Somewhar off norrud—must have been quite fur—
Never was heerd from.
He writ no letters home—he did?—Sho! how should you
Know ef he did or no? They never come;
That much I'm shore of; an' the old man grew
Grummer an' grummer every day, an' dumb
About his feelin's.
Know ef he did or no? They never come;
433
Grummer an' grummer every day, an' dumb
About his feelin's.
You'd ruther think he had no elder son—
He spoke to no one of him evermore;
He kep' his thoughts apart from every one;
But half the time sot at the open door,
Allus out-lookin'.
He spoke to no one of him evermore;
He kep' his thoughts apart from every one;
But half the time sot at the open door,
Allus out-lookin'.
Folks said that he was keepin' open eye,
To watch John's comin' back; but whether 'r no,
At any time, as you were passin' by,
You'd see the Colonel, sun, or rain, or snow,
Set thar a watchin'.
To watch John's comin' back; but whether 'r no,
At any time, as you were passin' by,
You'd see the Colonel, sun, or rain, or snow,
Set thar a watchin'.
An' years passed by. He never heerd from John,
But still kept waitin'—never saw the sight
He seemed to long for, but he waited on,
Until his body bent, his ha'r grew white,
His wrinkles deeper.
But still kept waitin'—never saw the sight
He seemed to long for, but he waited on,
Until his body bent, his ha'r grew white,
His wrinkles deeper.
He grew quite blind at last, but sot thar still,
No day too hot nor cold. He couldn't see,
But kep' his sightless eyeballs toward the hill
The road winds over—'twas the way, you see,
John took in goin'.
No day too hot nor cold. He couldn't see,
But kep' his sightless eyeballs toward the hill
The road winds over—'twas the way, you see,
John took in goin'.
One evenin' as they come to lead him in,
He lay thar stretched, as though his race was run,
An' muttered when they raised him—“Pride's a sin
That punishes itself. Come back, my son!”
An' so died sudden.
He lay thar stretched, as though his race was run,
An' muttered when they raised him—“Pride's a sin
That punishes itself. Come back, my son!”
An' so died sudden.
434
Guy!—yaas, that was the second son—he's dead.
He fell at Gainesville, killed thar by some Yank.
He never married. Edward? Well, young Ned
Drank hard, an' tumbled off the river bank
One night, an' drownded.
He fell at Gainesville, killed thar by some Yank.
He never married. Edward? Well, young Ned
Drank hard, an' tumbled off the river bank
One night, an' drownded.
Alishy!—why, you know 'em like a book!
That was the darter—powerful full of pride.
She married with Jeemes Tolliver, who took
Her off to old Virginny, whar she died,
Last of the fam'ly.
That was the darter—powerful full of pride.
She married with Jeemes Tolliver, who took
Her off to old Virginny, whar she died,
Last of the fam'ly.
But Mrs. Kemps'n'!—that's the Colonel's wife—
She took her bed when John he left the place,
An' died within a year. Why, bless my life!
How pale you are!—I mought have known the face!—
Why, you're John Kemps'n'!
She took her bed when John he left the place,
An' died within a year. Why, bless my life!
How pale you are!—I mought have known the face!—
Why, you're John Kemps'n'!
MOSES PARSLEY.
Natur'! why, yes; I know what natur' is
Ef onredeemed by grace, an' I allow
The human kind of it, ef fa'rly riz,
Is desput wicked. I remember now
The case of Mosis Passley, showin' you
What, ef a man's ontetched by grace, he'll do.
Ef onredeemed by grace, an' I allow
The human kind of it, ef fa'rly riz,
Is desput wicked. I remember now
The case of Mosis Passley, showin' you
What, ef a man's ontetched by grace, he'll do.
Mosis was well-to-do. Of this world's goods
He had his sheer. He raised a house as fine,
All chinked an' daubed, as lies thar in the woods;
A punshing fence aroun' his garding, swine,
Hosses and cow beasts; forty acres cleared,
An' lots of dollars hid away, I've heerd.
He had his sheer. He raised a house as fine,
All chinked an' daubed, as lies thar in the woods;
A punshing fence aroun' his garding, swine,
435
An' lots of dollars hid away, I've heerd.
I rid the cirkit thar two year, an' used
To stop at Mosis's to lodge bekase
He'd heaps of chickens, nuvver holp refused
Onto the church; an', spite of foolin' ways,
I liked the man; then Sister Passley, she
Was a good woman, so it seemed to me.
To stop at Mosis's to lodge bekase
He'd heaps of chickens, nuvver holp refused
Onto the church; an', spite of foolin' ways,
I liked the man; then Sister Passley, she
Was a good woman, so it seemed to me.
Old Peter Markham was her father; he
Lived upon Caney waters; ef I'd been
At home when she was growed, it seems to me
Peter an' I had been of nigher kin;
For somehow woman's weakness allus lay
To lovin' when a preacher's in the way.
Lived upon Caney waters; ef I'd been
At home when she was growed, it seems to me
Peter an' I had been of nigher kin;
For somehow woman's weakness allus lay
To lovin' when a preacher's in the way.
I used to stop at Mosis's of nights,
Gwine to app'intments on the cirkit roun',
It seemed I had that couple dead to rights,
Allus warm welcome an' fried chickens foun',
Hot biscuit an' good coffee, an' the place
Kinder lit up with Sister Passley's face.
Gwine to app'intments on the cirkit roun',
It seemed I had that couple dead to rights,
Allus warm welcome an' fried chickens foun',
Hot biscuit an' good coffee, an' the place
Kinder lit up with Sister Passley's face.
An' only wunst I went thar in the day;
I'd preached a funeral the night afore
At Peter Stollin's; bein' on my way,
I thought I'd stop in Passley's house wunst more;
So hitched my hoss on to a swingin' limb,
An' then went in a hummin' of a hymn.
I'd preached a funeral the night afore
At Peter Stollin's; bein' on my way,
I thought I'd stop in Passley's house wunst more;
So hitched my hoss on to a swingin' limb,
An' then went in a hummin' of a hymn.
“Sister, good mornin'.” “Mornin', Brother Brooks.”
“Whar's Brother Passley?” “Gone away a spell.”
An' then she laughed. A somethin' in her looks
Seemed morn'n frien'ly; but I couldn't tell
Edzacly how the words come onto me,
But I spoke out—“How beautiful you be!”
“Whar's Brother Passley?” “Gone away a spell.”
An' then she laughed. A somethin' in her looks
Seemed morn'n frien'ly; but I couldn't tell
436
But I spoke out—“How beautiful you be!”
“Law, sakes,” she said, an' then she kinder smiled,
“I thought you nuvver noticed women's looks;
Eve by the sarpint one time was beguiled;
I hope you ain't a sarpint, Brother Brooks.”
I said, says I—“No, ne'er a sarpint, sister;”
An', takin' of her hand, I bent an' kissed her.
“I thought you nuvver noticed women's looks;
Eve by the sarpint one time was beguiled;
I hope you ain't a sarpint, Brother Brooks.”
I said, says I—“No, ne'er a sarpint, sister;”
An', takin' of her hand, I bent an' kissed her.
Jerusalem! she fotched me setch a lick;
It sot my face a stingin' then like mad;
I saw more stars than shined upon that crick—
Who would hev thought what strength the critter had?
An' then quite suddint, without warnin' thar,
I felt myself a risin' in the a'r.
It sot my face a stingin' then like mad;
I saw more stars than shined upon that crick—
Who would hev thought what strength the critter had?
An' then quite suddint, without warnin' thar,
I felt myself a risin' in the a'r.
It wasn't with joy—'twas Mosis Passley's toe;
An' he kep' usin' it with wicked fo'ce,
Ontell he kicked me through the lane below,
Then back agin to whar I'd hitched me hoss;
An' then he said—“Now jest you mount and scoot.”
An' she said—“Mose, you hev'n't spiled your boot?”
An' he kep' usin' it with wicked fo'ce,
Ontell he kicked me through the lane below,
Then back agin to whar I'd hitched me hoss;
An' then he said—“Now jest you mount and scoot.”
An' she said—“Mose, you hev'n't spiled your boot?”
I've nuvver been to Mosis Passley's sence—
I'm on a different cirkit; but I'm shore,
To one who nuvver meant to give offence,
'Twas hard setch parsecution mus' be bore;
Pra'r is the only thing to meet the case,
That Passley's heart may yit be tetched by grace.
I'm on a different cirkit; but I'm shore,
To one who nuvver meant to give offence,
'Twas hard setch parsecution mus' be bore;
Pra'r is the only thing to meet the case,
That Passley's heart may yit be tetched by grace.
437
OCCASIONAL LINES.
[_]
Read at the one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of the birth of Burns, held at the Academy of Music, Newark, N. J., Jan. 25, 1884.
We tak' na fash wi' freeze or thaw,
Gin breezes sough, or tempests blaw,
For this ae night we celebrate
Rab Burns's birth; an' bauld we say't,
We dinna min' the weather a haet—
Na flash o' pouther;
But stan'—we hae na tint that gate—
Shouther to shouther.
Gin breezes sough, or tempests blaw,
For this ae night we celebrate
Rab Burns's birth; an' bauld we say't,
We dinna min' the weather a haet—
Na flash o' pouther;
But stan'—we hae na tint that gate—
Shouther to shouther.
We'se sicker come on ilka year
For sic a purpose—dinna fear;
But noo, while tides o' frien'ship swell,
An' speeches, each as lang's an ell;
Wi' muckle strunt frae Hielan' stell,
Mak' spirits mingle,
Let's doucely celebrate oursel',
In crambo-jingle.
For sic a purpose—dinna fear;
But noo, while tides o' frien'ship swell,
An' speeches, each as lang's an ell;
Wi' muckle strunt frae Hielan' stell,
Mak' spirits mingle,
Let's doucely celebrate oursel',
In crambo-jingle.
An' first, our Chairman, there sits he—
Guid-willie feelin' in his ee:
A ship ye'd build o' boortree limb,
Light gather frae the gloamin' dim,
Or satisfy a woman's whim
By showin' sconner,
Ere ye wad get ae thing frae him
Save truth an' honor.
Guid-willie feelin' in his ee:
A ship ye'd build o' boortree limb,
Light gather frae the gloamin' dim,
Or satisfy a woman's whim
By showin' sconner,
Ere ye wad get ae thing frae him
Save truth an' honor.
There's Woodruff wi' his streakit pow,
Gowd specs on's nose—an' talkin'! Wow!
An' when he mak's harangue on Burns,
An' Rhetoric sae deftly turns,
An' a' his hearers feelin's kirns
At his ain pleasure,
O' just applause he fairly earns
Na scrimpit measure.
Gowd specs on's nose—an' talkin'! Wow!
438
An' Rhetoric sae deftly turns,
An' a' his hearers feelin's kirns
At his ain pleasure,
O' just applause he fairly earns
Na scrimpit measure.
Noo, Soutar, dinna jouk ayont,
But tak' yer parritch, butter on't.
I fear yer blate; but bide a wee;
When threescore years hae bleared yer ee,
Ye'se tak' all roose yer frien's'll gie,
Though noo ye'd fen it;
In monie a place ye bore the gree,
An' weel ye ken it.
But tak' yer parritch, butter on't.
I fear yer blate; but bide a wee;
When threescore years hae bleared yer ee,
Ye'se tak' all roose yer frien's'll gie,
Though noo ye'd fen it;
In monie a place ye bore the gree,
An' weel ye ken it.
An' there's the Surrogat'—he's here,
But na aboot yer wills to spier—
He ay has haen a wull o' 's ain,
An' aften gangs his gate alane;
But, spite o' that, ere he be gane,
We'se sae contrive it,
We'se mak' him cozey, croose an' fain,
Wi' guid Glenlivet.
But na aboot yer wills to spier—
He ay has haen a wull o' 's ain,
An' aften gangs his gate alane;
But, spite o' that, ere he be gane,
We'se sae contrive it,
We'se mak' him cozey, croose an' fain,
Wi' guid Glenlivet.
An' here to-night, the Boord o' Trade
Comes kiuttlin' underneath our plaid;
A birkie wha's their President;
To spak' their notion here is sent,
An' in his parle ye'se fin' na sklent—
A' bright as siller;
Fact, fancy, truth a' sentiment
Ye'se get frae Miller.
Comes kiuttlin' underneath our plaid;
A birkie wha's their President;
To spak' their notion here is sent,
An' in his parle ye'se fin' na sklent—
A' bright as siller;
Fact, fancy, truth a' sentiment
Ye'se get frae Miller.
An' he, schulemeister noo na mair,
But Mayor himsel', weel skill't in lear—
He kens ilk city caddies quirk;
He'll hae na jinkin' in the wark:
He'll drag out wrang whare'er it lurk
Frae roof to groun'-sill;
An', gin it need, he'll use his birk
On the Common Council.
But Mayor himsel', weel skill't in lear—
439
He'll hae na jinkin' in the wark:
He'll drag out wrang whare'er it lurk
Frae roof to groun'-sill;
An', gin it need, he'll use his birk
On the Common Council.
We've na the Bench, but just the Bar—
Aiblins for that we're nane the war;
We've ane at han', the law to ken,
To cannille the right defen',
An' mak' the rogues wha' will na men',
Sup stoups o' sorrow;
To-night on him ye can depen',
An' sae to—Morrow.
Aiblins for that we're nane the war;
We've ane at han', the law to ken,
To cannille the right defen',
An' mak' the rogues wha' will na men',
Sup stoups o' sorrow;
To-night on him ye can depen',
An' sae to—Morrow.
Niest 'tis ma duty tae record
The Solon o' the Saxteenth Ward,
Wha to auld Bungstarter is leal,
An' mak's the faes o' Skinner squeal:
Ye'se fin' him still a dainty chiel,
For a' his scoffin';
He shoots his grunzie off right weel,
This Barnes Magoffin.
The Solon o' the Saxteenth Ward,
Wha to auld Bungstarter is leal,
An' mak's the faes o' Skinner squeal:
Ye'se fin' him still a dainty chiel,
For a' his scoffin';
He shoots his grunzie off right weel,
This Barnes Magoffin.
Then comes yer honored Chief, George Fyfe,
A mon just plain, o' upright life;
He ne'er did oniebody wrang,
An' loes in peace through life to gang,
But, gin a king wad come alang,
A' claithed in purple,
An' bid him fleech, he'd stan' up strong,
An' scorn tae hirple.
A mon just plain, o' upright life;
He ne'er did oniebody wrang,
An' loes in peace through life to gang,
But, gin a king wad come alang,
A' claithed in purple,
An' bid him fleech, he'd stan' up strong,
An' scorn tae hirple.
The Sherra niest—he's unco [W]right!
Wi' him we'se hae a roarin' night;
A jinker he wha' will na jink
Afore a stoup o' guid Scotch drink;
But haud him till't, an' in a wink
Wi' his droll daffin',
Yer hearts'll loup, yer e'en'll blink—
Maist dead wi' laughin'.
Wi' him we'se hae a roarin' night;
440
Afore a stoup o' guid Scotch drink;
But haud him till't, an' in a wink
Wi' his droll daffin',
Yer hearts'll loup, yer e'en'll blink—
Maist dead wi' laughin'.
The last—his points I maunna tell;
I loe him weel too—that's mysel'!
Kenspeckle 'tis I hae na gear,
An' hence, na monie frien's, I fear—
Na matter! when nae mair I'm here,
To Heaven a climber,
Or aiblins doon, drink ance a year
To Tam the Rhymer.
I loe him weel too—that's mysel'!
Kenspeckle 'tis I hae na gear,
An' hence, na monie frien's, I fear—
Na matter! when nae mair I'm here,
To Heaven a climber,
Or aiblins doon, drink ance a year
To Tam the Rhymer.
THE MILLER'S OE.
I gang wi' aits to Sandy's Mill,
Upon my auld grey mare;
As lang's the sack's upon her back,
I dinna ride her bare.
As on I jog my heart it loups
For ane wha's in the ben;
But gin the lassie loes me weel,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(Ye can hear th' auld mare as she clatters o'er the stanes)
An' hame gaes the meal.
Upon my auld grey mare;
As lang's the sack's upon her back,
I dinna ride her bare.
As on I jog my heart it loups
For ane wha's in the ben;
But gin the lassie loes me weel,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(Ye can hear th' auld mare as she clatters o'er the stanes)
An' hame gaes the meal.
As lang's I sit on th' auld mare's back,
I'm bauld as a bumbee sma',
But when I meet my dearie sweet,
My bauldness rins awa'.
When doon my sack on the flure I drap,
I steal within the ben;
Gin the miller's oe thinks me her jo,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(The buckets clatter loud as they a' rise an' fa')
An' hame gaes the meal.
I'm bauld as a bumbee sma',
441
My bauldness rins awa'.
When doon my sack on the flure I drap,
I steal within the ben;
Gin the miller's oe thinks me her jo,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(The buckets clatter loud as they a' rise an' fa')
An' hame gaes the meal.
To-day I'll gang to mill alane,
An' be na mair afeard;
I've been sae blate, I'll change my gate,
An' bauldly spier my weird.
I've mailin' an' kye, an' gowd forbye,
Na waur than ither men;
An' gin the lassie loes or na,
This day I'll rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(A chicken-heartit chiel winna win a bonny lass)
An' hame gaes the meal.
An' be na mair afeard;
I've been sae blate, I'll change my gate,
An' bauldly spier my weird.
I've mailin' an' kye, an' gowd forbye,
Na waur than ither men;
An' gin the lassie loes or na,
This day I'll rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(A chicken-heartit chiel winna win a bonny lass)
An' hame gaes the meal.
Hess Dunning M'Athol.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |