Just as the sun was setting <br />Back of the Western hills <br />Grandfather stood by the window <br />Eating the last of his pills. <br /> <br />And Grandmother, by the cupboard, <br />Knitting, heard him say: <br />'I ought to have went to the village <br />To fetch some more pills today.' <br /> <br />Then Grandmother snuffled a teardrop <br />And said. 'It is jest like I suz <br />T’ th’ parson—Grandfather’s liver <br />Ain’t what it used to was: <br /> <br />'It’s gittin’ torpid and dormant, <br />It don’t function like of old, <br />And even them pills he swallers <br />Don’t seem no more t’ catch hold; <br /> <br />'They used to grab it and shake it <br />And joggle it up and down <br />And turn dear Grandfather yaller <br />Except when they turned him brown; <br /> <br />'I remember when we was married <br />His liver was lively and gay, <br />A kickin’ an’ rippin’ an’ givin’ <br />Dear Ezry new pains ev’ry day; <br /> <br />'It used to turn clear over backwards <br />An’ palpitate wuss’n a pump <br />An’ give him the janders and yallers <br />An’ bounce around thumpty-thump; <br /> <br />'But now it is torpid and dormant <br />And painless and quiet and cold; <br />Ah, me! all’s so peaceful an’ quiet <br />Since Grandfather’s liver ’s grown old! <br /> <br />Then Grandmother wiped a new teardrop <br />And sighed: 'It is just like I suz <br />T’ th’ parson: Grandfather’s liver <br />Ain’t what it used to was.'<br /><br />Ellis Parker Butler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pastoral-2/
