Afterwhiles Part 13

Captured Johnts by cuttin' stenchils Fer them old wheat-sacks o' his--.

Fixed his clock, in the post-office-- Painted fer him, clean and slick, 'Crost his safe, in gold-leaf letters, "J. Culwells's Wriggle Crick."

Any kindo' job you keered to Resk him with, and bring, He'd fix fer you-- jest appeared to Turn his hand to anything--!

Rings, er earbobs, er umbrellers-- Glue a cheer er chany doll--, W'y, of all the beatin' fellers, He Jest beat 'em all!

Made his friends, but wouldn't stop there--, One mistake he learnt, That was, sleepin' in his shop there--.

And one Sund'y night it burnt!

Come in one o' jest a-sweepin'

All the whole town high and dry-- And that feller, when they waked him, Suffocatin', mighty nigh!

Johnts he drug him from the buildin', He'pless-- 'peared to be--, And the women and the childern Drenchin' him with sympathy!

But I noticed Johnts helt on him With a' extry lovin' grip, And the men-folks gethered round him In most warmest parders.h.i.+p!

That's the whole mess, grease-and-dopin'!

Johnt's safe was saved--, But the lock was found sprung open, And the inside caved.

Was no trial-- ner no jury-- Ner no jedge ner court-house-click--.

Circ.u.mstances alters cases Down on Wriggle Crick!

_When De Folks Is Gone_

What dat scratchin' at de kitchin do'?

Done heah'n dat foh an hour er mo'!

Tell you Mr. n.i.g.g.ah, das sho's yo' bo'n, Hit's mighty lonesome waitin' when de folks is gone!

Blame my trap! How de wind do blow!

An' dis is das de night foh de witches, sho'!

Dey's trouble gon' to waste when de old s.l.u.t whine, An' you heah de cat a-spittin' when de moon don't s.h.i.+ne!

Chune my fiddle, an' de bridge go "bang!"

An' I lef' 'er right back whah she allus hang, An' de tribble snap short an' de apern split When dey no mortal man wah a-tetchin' hit!

Dah! Now, what? How de ole j'ice cracks!

'Spec' dis house, ef hit tell plain fac's, 'Ud talk about de ha'nts wid dey long tails on What das'n't on'y come when de folks is gone!

What I tuk an' done ef a sho'-nuff ghos'

Pop right up by de ole bed-pos'?

What dat s.h.i.+nin' fru de front do' crack...?

G.o.d bress de Lo'd! Hit's de folks got back!

_The Little Town O' Tailholt_

You kin boast about yer cities, and their stiddy growth and size, And brag about yer County-seats, and business enterprise, And railroads, and factories, and all sich foolery-- But the little Town o' Tailholt is big enough fer me!

You kin harp about yer churches, with their steeples in the clouds, And gas about yer graded streets, and blow about yer crowds; You kin talk about yer "theaters," and all you've got to see-- But the little Town o' Tailholt is show enough fer me!

They hain't no style in our town-- hit's little-like and small-- They hain't no "churches," nuther--, jes' the meetin' house is all; They's no sidewalks, to speak of-- but the highway's allus free, And the little Town o' Tailholt is wide enough fer me!

Some find it discommodin'-like, I'm willin' to admit, To hev but one post-office, and a womern keepin' hit, And the drug-store, and shoe-shop, and grocery, all three-- But the little Town o' Tailholt is handy 'nough fer me!

You kin smile and turn yer nose up, and joke and hev yer fun, And laugh and holler "Tail-holts is better holts'n none!

Ef the city suits you better w'y, hit's where you'd ort'o be-- But the little Town o' Tailholt's good enough fer me!

_Little Orphant Annie_

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers--, An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs, His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!

An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess; But all they found was thist his pants an' roundabout--: An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh and grin, An' make fun of ever'one, an' all her blood an' kin; An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there, She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!

An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide, They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side, An' they s.n.a.t.c.hed her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!

An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!

An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightn'-bugs in dew is all squenched away--, You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear, An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear, An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at cl.u.s.ters all about Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!