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(THE COMING OF THE KING.)
Ring the farm-bell—toot the boat-horn—stir the country round;
Telephone to all the neighbors what we folks have found!
Raid the cellar to a famine—make the kitchen gleam,
Pile the tables full of victuals, till the dishes steam!
An' if a tramp comes to the door, we'll feed him full an' right,
An' tell him of the little tramp that come to us tonight:
With not a sin to worry him, or cloud his wonderin' eye;
As innocent as angels is that never leave the sky.
Telephone to all the neighbors what we folks have found!
Raid the cellar to a famine—make the kitchen gleam,
Pile the tables full of victuals, till the dishes steam!
An' if a tramp comes to the door, we'll feed him full an' right,
An' tell him of the little tramp that come to us tonight:
With not a sin to worry him, or cloud his wonderin' eye;
As innocent as angels is that never leave the sky.
95
Feed the horses—stuff the cattle, till they're doubly dumb;
Make 'em eat a royal banquet, now the king has come!
In his eyes are costly jewels, velvets in his hand;
In his voice are strains of music, sweeter than the band.
We had a grown republic here, for many seasons past,
But now it's just a monarchy—the king has come at last!
My wife an' I, my son, his wife, forehanded one might call:
But here's a little millionaire that re'lly owns us all!
Make 'em eat a royal banquet, now the king has come!
In his eyes are costly jewels, velvets in his hand;
In his voice are strains of music, sweeter than the band.
We had a grown republic here, for many seasons past,
But now it's just a monarchy—the king has come at last!
My wife an' I, my son, his wife, forehanded one might call:
But here's a little millionaire that re'lly owns us all!
Did you ever see a lan'scape pleasant in the face,
All the hills an' trees an' valleys in their proper place:
But there's somethin' lackin'—lackin'! still you often said:
Life is there, but 'tain't alive! kep' runnin' in your head?
An' then the clouds they cleared away, an' showed you to the sky,
An' then you heard the robins sing, and see the bluebirds fly;
An' then come out the great glad sun, a-makin' extra cheer,
An' that's the very same complaint we're laborin' under here.
All the hills an' trees an' valleys in their proper place:
But there's somethin' lackin'—lackin'! still you often said:
Life is there, but 'tain't alive! kep' runnin' in your head?
An' then the clouds they cleared away, an' showed you to the sky,
An' then you heard the robins sing, and see the bluebirds fly;
An' then come out the great glad sun, a-makin' extra cheer,
An' that's the very same complaint we're laborin' under here.
96
Spile him?—yes, I s'pose we'll spile him, to a small degree;
He will want the world to play with, just like you an' me;
He shall hev it, for a season; but he'll soon be taught
That there's nothin' worth the havin', till it's fairly bought.
An' then he'll grow to be a man, an' pay off all his debt,
A Gov'nor or a President, or somethin' grander yet;
But I'll be suited well enough, if he'll do well's he can,
An' straighten up, an' grow to be a good ol'-fashioned man.
He will want the world to play with, just like you an' me;
He shall hev it, for a season; but he'll soon be taught
That there's nothin' worth the havin', till it's fairly bought.
An' then he'll grow to be a man, an' pay off all his debt,
A Gov'nor or a President, or somethin' grander yet;
But I'll be suited well enough, if he'll do well's he can,
An' straighten up, an' grow to be a good ol'-fashioned man.
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