86 Chapters
Medium 9780253022790

Down Around the River

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub

NOON-TIME an’ June-time, down around the river!

Have to furse with ’Lizey Ann—but lawzy! I fer-give her!

Drives me off the place, an’ says ’at all ’at she’s a-wishin’,

Land o’ gracious! time’ll come I’ll git enough o’ fishin’!

Little Dave, a-choppin’ wood, never ’pears to notice;

Don’t know where she’s hid his hat, er keerin’ where his coat is,—

Specalatin’, more’n like, he haint a-goin’ to mind me,

An’ guessin’ where, say twelve o’clock, a feller’d likely find me!

Noon-time an’ June-time, down around the river!

Clean out o’ sight o’ home, an’ skulkin’ under kivver

Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, an’ swamp-ash an’ ellum—

Idies all so jumbled up, you kin hardly tell ’em!—

Tired, you know, but lovin’ it, an’ smilin’ jes’ to think ’at

Any sweeter tiredness you’d fairly want to drink it!

Tired o’ fishin’—tired o’ fun—line out slack an’ slacker—

All you want in all the world’s a little more tobacker!

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253022790

Our Hired Girl

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub

OUR hired girl, she’s ’Lizabuth Ann;

An’ she can cook best things to eat!

She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,

An’ pours in somepin’ ’at’s good and sweet,

An’ nen she salts it all on top

With cinnamon; an’ nen she’ll stop

An’ stoop an’ slide it, ist as slow,

In th’ old cook-stove, so’s ’twon’t slop

An’ git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

It’s custard pie, first thing you know!

An’ nen she’ll say:

“Clear out o’ my way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!—

Take yer dough, an’ run, Child; run!

Er I cain’t git no cookin’ done!”

When our hired girl ’tends like she’s mad,

An’ says folks got to walk the chalk

When she’s around, er wisht they had,

I play out on our porch an’ talk

To th’ Raggedy Man ’at mows our lawn;

An’ he says, “Whew!” an’ nen leans on

His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes,

An’ sniffs all round an’ says,—“I swawn!

Ef my old nose don’t tell me lies,

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253009517

The Brook-Song

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub
Medium 9780253022790

Little Coat, The

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub

HERE’S his ragged “roundabout”

Turn the pockets inside out:

See; his pen-knife, lost to use,

Rusted shut with apple-juice;

Here, with marbles, top and string,

Is his deadly “devil-sling,”

With its rubber, limp at last

As the sparrows of the past!

Beeswax—buckles—leather straps—

Bullets, and a box of caps,—

Not a thing of all, I guess,

But betrays some waywardness—

E’en these tickets, blue and red,

For the Bible-verses said—

Such as this his mem’ry kept—

“Jesus wept.”

Here’s a fishing hook-and-line,

Tangled up with wire and twine,

And dead angle-worms, and some

Slugs of lead and chewing-gum,

Blent with scents that can but come

From the oil of rhodium.

Here—a soiled, yet dainty note,

That some little sweetheart wrote,

Dotting,—“Vine grows round the stump,”

And—“My sweetest sugar lump!”

Wrapped in this—a padlock key

Where he’s filed a touch-hole—see!

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253009517

Thoughts Fer the Discuraged Farmer

James Whitcomb Riley Indiana University Press ePub

The summer winds is sniffin’ round the bloomin’ locus’ trees;

And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees,

And they been a-swiggin’ honey, above board and on the sly,

Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin’ and stagger as they fly.

The flicker on the fence-rail ’pears to jest spit on his wings

And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;

And the hoss-fly is a-whettin’-up his forelegs fer biz,

And the off-mare is a-switchin’ all of her tale they is.

You can hear the blackbirds jawin’ as they foller up the plow—

Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a-carin’ how;

So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the wing—

But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:

And it’s when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,

She’s as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket’s nest;

And a few shots before dinner, when the sun’s a-shinin’ right,

Seems to kindo’-sorto’ sharpen up a feller’s appetite!

See All Chapters

See All Chapters