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Title: A Pen-Pictur' Of A Certin Frivvolus Old Man
Author: James Whitcomb Riley [
More Titles by Riley]
Most ontimely old man yit!
'Pear-like sometimes he jest tries
His fool-self, and takes the bitt
In his teeth and jest de-fies
All perpryties!--Lay and swet
Doin' nothin'--only jest
Sorto' speckillatun on
Whare old summertimes is gone,
And 'bout things that he loved best
When a youngster! Heerd him say
Springtimes made him thataway--
Speshully on Sund'ys--when
Sun shines out and in again,
And the lonesome old hens they
Git off under the old kern-
Bushes, and in deep concern
Talk-like to theyrselvs, and scratch
Kindo' absunt-minded, jest
Like theyr thoughts was fur away
In some neghbor's gyarden-patch
Folks has tended keerfullest!
Heerd the old man dwell on these
Idys time and time again!--
Heerd him claim that orchurd-trees
Bloomin', put the mischief in
His old hart sometimes that bad
And owdacious that he "had
To break loose someway," says he,
"Ornry as I ust to be!"
Heerd him say one time--when I
Was a sorto' standin' by,
And the air so still and clear,
Heerd the bell fer church clean here!--
Said: "Ef I could climb and set
On the old three-cornerd rail
Old home-place, nigh Maryette',
Swop my soul off, hide and tale!"
And-sir! blame ef tear and laugh
Didn't ketch him half and half!
"Oh!" he says, "to wake and be
Bare-foot, in the airly dawn
In the pastur'!--thare," says he,
"Standin' whare the cow's slep' on
The cold, dewy grass that's got
Print of her jest steamy hot
Fer to warm a feller's heels
In a while!--How good it feels!
Sund'y!--Country!--Morning!--Hear
Nothin' but the silunce--see
Nothin' but green woods and clear
Skies and unwrit poetry
By the acre!... Oh!" says he,
"What's this voice of mine?--to seek
To speak out, and yit can't speak!
"Think!--the lazyest of days"--
Takin' his contrairyest leap,
He went on,--"git up, er sleep--
Er whilse feedin', watch the haze
Dancin' 'crost the wheat,--and keep
My pipe goin' laisurely--
Puff and whiff as pleases me,--
Er I'll leave a trail of smoke
Through the house!--no one'll say
'Throw that nasty thing away!'
'Pear-like nothin' sacerd's broke,
Goin' bare-foot ef I chuse!--
I have fiddled;--and dug bait
And went fishin';--pitched hoss-shoes--
Whare they couldn't see us from
The main road.--And I've beat some.
I've set round and had my joke
With the thrashers at the barn--
And I've swopped 'em yarn fer yarn!--
Er I've he'pped the childern poke
Fer hens'-nests--agged on a match
'Twixt the boys, to watch 'em scratch
And paw round and rip and tare,
And bust buttons and pull hair
To theyr rompin' harts' content--
And me jest a-settin' thare
Hatchin' out more devilment!
"What you s'pose now ort to be
Done with sich a man?" says he--
"Sich a fool-old-man as me!"
[The end]
James Whitcomb Riley's poem: Pen-Pictur' Of A Certin Frivvolus Old Man
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