But though my voice was good an' strong, I couldn't steer it right. When they was high, then I was low, An' also contrawise; An' I too fast, or they too slow, An' after every verse, you know I pitched it pretty middlin' high, Was singin' there alone! But I had done my best; And Sister Brown-I could but look- It kep' her head a-bobbin' so, It c'en a'most came off. An' Deacon Tubbs-he all broke down, As one might well suppose; He took one look at Sister Brown, And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn-book through and through, And laid it on the seat, And then a pensive sigh he drew, And looked completely beat. Larrie O'Dee And when they took another bout, But drawed his red bandanner out, I've been a sister, good an' true, I've done what seemed my part to do, But Death will stop my voice, I know, And some day I to church will go, And when the folks gets up to sing- A-squealin' over me! LARRIE O'DEE Now the Widow McGee, And Larrie O'Dee, Had two little cottages out on the green, 165 Will Carleton. With just room enough for two pig-pens between. One morning said he: "Och! Misthress McGee, It's a waste of good lumber, this runnin' two rigs, "Shwate Widow McGee," Answered Larrie O'Dee, "If ye fale in your heart we are mane to the pigs, Ain't we mane to ourselves to be runnin' two rigs? "Larrie's courtin' o' me, Wid his dilicate tinder allusions to you; So now yez must tell me jisht what I must do: For, if I'm to say yes, shtir the swill wid yer snout; William W. Fink. NO FAULT IN WOMEN No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would choose. How tedious they are in their dress; The tincture of vermilion, And there to give the cheek a dye Robert Herrick. A Cosmopolitan Woman A COSMOPOLITAN WOMAN SHE went round and asked subscriptions She did; For the tribes round Athabasca, She longed, she said, to buy So she did. Her heart ached for the Australians And she loved the black Numidian, And the charcoal-coloured Guinean, And she said she'd cross the seas How she loved the cold Norwegian She sent tins of red tomato To the tribes beyond the Equator, So he did; The poor helpless, homeless thing (My voice falters as I sing) Tied his clothes up with a string, Yes, he did. 167 Unknown. COURTING IN KENTUCKY WHEN Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule daown thar on I was glad, fer I like ter see a gal makin' her honest way. She come in her reg'lar boardin' raound ter visit with us a spell. My Jake an' her had been cronies ever since they could walk, An' it tuk me aback to hear her kerrectin' him in his talk. Jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't his beat for work; But I sez ter myself, "Look out, my gal, yer a-foolin' with a Turk!" Jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a mournful way, He p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's at Injun Bay. I remember once he was askin' for some o' my Injun buns, An' she said he should allus say, "them air," stid o' "them is" the ones. Wal, Mary Ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' evenin' long, Tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' wrong. One day I was pickin' currants daown by the old quince-tree, When I heerd Jake's voice a-saying', "Be yer willin' ter marry me?" An' Mary Ann kerrectin', 'Air ye willin' yeou sh'd say "; Florence E. Pratt. |