Swazy folks and others; poems . m! I envy ? No, all envy dies aborning—All doubt concerning which of us the wisestchoice has madeWill disappear on Christmas—in the nurseryChristmas morning—Amid the joy of children where my dividendsare paid! 134 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS John Thompkins Fiddlin*. TOHN Thompkins take yer fiddle down—•^ Its been so long agoI seed y wrassle her aroun An heerd y tromp her bow,At all the notes y conjured thenSound further off each day, an whenI ast ye, John, t play again, Yew understand, I know. I want t hear y take an play Them tunes I Ryestraw jig an
Swazy folks and others; poems . m! I envy ? No, all envy dies aborning—All doubt concerning which of us the wisestchoice has madeWill disappear on Christmas—in the nurseryChristmas morning—Amid the joy of children where my dividendsare paid! 134 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS John Thompkins Fiddlin*. TOHN Thompkins take yer fiddle down—•^ Its been so long agoI seed y wrassle her aroun An heerd y tromp her bow,At all the notes y conjured thenSound further off each day, an whenI ast ye, John, t play again, Yew understand, I know. I want t hear y take an play Them tunes I Ryestraw jig an Trainin Day An Far Frum Native that My Saylors On the Sea,An Nellie Gray an Hummin BeeO, thems the tunes t play fer me, John Thompkins, try yer hand! Jes tune her up untwell she screams Fer them ats livin, John,Then drap her twell she chords with dreams Fer them we knowed ats gone;Jes take her down frum off the shelfAn rosum up her bowstring twell fShes let alone shell play herself, Jes on— an on— an on—. John Thompkins Fiddlin SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS 137 Its long ago I heerd y, John, Theres ages passed since then,But still yer notes jes linger on In Memory, an whenThe bluebirds sing, it seems their ventIs nuthin but the notes unspentPersarved frum your ol insterment—I wish yd play again! 138 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS Old Ben Tarrs Idee. * I HE man who smiles an sez Amen??? When rains a-fallin, same ez whenThe sun is shinin, seems t me Hez got about th right idee—Whos never faultin Providence Fer things it sends. In consequence,I reckin he is Gods own chice, An fair well on tords Paradise. I blieve th plainest man, whose plumb Hangs true along his life at hum—Whos square with men in days affairs An fair with God in even in prayers—Who sleeps an leaves his latch unslung Fer ennything hes ever done—Now such a man, it seems t me, Aint needin much filosophy! I argy he who duz his best An trusts in Him fer all th rest—Who dont doubt Jonah and the whal
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidswazyfolksot, bookyear1908
