Settin' round the stove, last night, <br />Down at Wess's store, was me <br />And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White, <br />And Doc Bills, and two er three <br />Fellers o' the Mudsock tribe <br />No use tryin' to describe! <br />And says Doc, he says, says he--, <br />'Talkin' 'bout good things to eat, <br />Ripe mushmillon's hard to beat!' <br /> <br />I chawed on. And Mart he 'lowed <br />Wortermillon beat the mush--. <br />'Red,' he says, 'and juicy-- Hush--! <br />I'll jes' leave it to the crowd!' <br />Then a Mudsock chap, says he--, <br />'Punkin's good enough fer me-- <br />Punkin pies, I mean,' he says--, <br />Them beats millons--! What say, Wess? <br /> <br />I chawed on. And Wess says--, 'Well, <br />You jes' fetch that wife of mine <br />All yer wortermillon-rine--, <br />And she'll bile it down a spell-- <br />In with sorghum, I suppose, <br />And what else, Lord only knows--! <br />But I'm here to tell all hands <br />Them p'serves meets my demands!' <br /> <br />I chawed on. And White he says--, <br />'Well, I'll jes' stand, in with Wess-- <br />I'm no hog!' And Tunk says--, 'I <br />Guess I'll pastur' out on pie <br />With the Mudsock boys!' says he; <br />'Now what's yourn?' he says to me: <br />I chawed on-- fer-- quite a spell <br />Then I speaks up, slow and dry--, <br />Jes' tobacker!' I-says-I--. <br />And you'd ort o' heerd 'em yell!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-liz-town-humorist/
