Go into town er to the store,
It's all the same, I hyur the roar
The crick is makin' as it reshes past
The bend; I know its sayin' somepin' more
'N folks believe, an' more'n most folks dast,
'Less they believe 'at spirits crosses o'er
An' talks 'ith us; the housework do n't git on__
Keeps gittin' tangleder 'n 't was before,
Dist like my head 'at's tangled to the core,
Sence Idy's gone.
A TWELFTH MONTH IDYL.
EVERY thing a-freezin' up, 'long about December;
Willer Crick amongst the rest, 'f I do n't disremember,
Froze up tighter'n a brick, 'ceptin' where Bill Oldum
Throwed a whoppin' rock er stick, 't' see if it 'ud hold him;'
Slick ez glass an' green an' thick, temptin' an' a-teasin';
Hear it poppin' up the crick while it's still a-freezin';
Hear the clinkin' of the skates, comin' thro' the timber__
Nosey Jim an' Shorty Bates'll soon be gittin' limber.
I kin say now I've begun, "'f I don't disremember,
Willer Crick's the place fer fun, 'long about December."
Build a big ol' driftwood fire, sizzlin' an' a-smokin',
Fer the girls to stand around, shiv'rin' an' a-chokin',
Till their fellers prances in, with some quirl erruther,
Sayin': "Shan't we try agin; go a little futher,"