blue!--
Month a man kin railly love--
June, you know, I'm talkin' of!
March ain't never nothin' new!
Aprile's altogether too
Brash fer me! and May--I jes'
'Bominate its promises,--
Little hints o' sunshine and
Green around the timber-land--
A few blossoms, and a few
Chip-birds, and a sprout er two--
Drap asleep, and it turns in
'Fore daylight and snows ag'in!--
But when June comes--Clear my th'oat
With wild honey!--Rench my hair
In the dew! and hold my coat!
Whoop out loud! and th'ow my hat!--
June wants me, and I'm to spare!
Spread them shadders anywhere,
I'll git down and waller there,
And obleeged to you at that!
FOOTNOTE:
[72] From "Afterwhiles," published by the Bobbs-Merrill Co.,
Indianapolis, Ind.
LITTLE BREECHES[73]
JOHN HAY
I don't go much on religion,
I never ain't had no show;
But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir,
On the handful o' things I know.
I don't pan out on the prophets,
And free-will and that sort of thing,
But I believe in God and the angels,
Ever sence one night last spring.
I come into town with some turnips,
And my little Gabe come along--
No four-year-old in the country
Could beat him for pretty and strong,
Peart and chipper and sassy,
Always ready to swear and fight--
And I'd larnt him to chew terbacker,
Jest to keep his milk teeth white.
The snow come down like a blanket
As I passed by Taggart's store;
I went in for a jug of molasses
And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started--
I heard one little squall,
And hell-to-split over the prairie
Went team, Little Breeches and all.
Hell-to-split over the prairie!
I was almost froze with skeer;
But we rousted up some torches,
And searched for 'em far and near.
At last we struck hosses and wagon,
Snowed under a soft white mound,
Upsot, dead beat--but of little Gabe
No hide nor hair was found.
And here all hope soured on me,
Of my fellow-critters' aid--
I jest flopped down on my marrow bones,
Crotch deep in the snow, and prayed.
By this the torches was played out,
And me and Isrul Parr
Went off for some wood to a
|