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A poem by James Whitcomb Riley |
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When the Hearse Comes Back |
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Title: When the Hearse Comes Back Author: James Whitcomb Riley [More Titles by Riley] A thing 'at's 'bout as tryin' as a healthy man kin meet
Meet it goin' to'rds the cimet'ry, you'll want to drap yer eyes-- But ef the plumes don't fetch you, it'll ketch you otherwise-- You'll haf to see the caskit, though you'd ort to look away And 'conomize and save yer sighs fer any other day! Yer sympathizin' won't wake up the sleeper from his rest-- Yer tears won't thaw them hands o' his 'at's froze acrost his breast! And this is why-- when airth and sky's a gittin blurred and black-- I like the flash and hurry
It's not 'cause I don't 'preciate it ain't no time fer jokes, Ner 'cause I' got no common human feelin' fer the folks--; I've went to funerals myse'f, and tuk on some, perhaps-- Fer my hearth's 'bout as mal'able as any other chap's--, I've buried father, mother-- But I'll haf to jes' git you To "excuse me," as the feller says--. The p'int I'm drivin' to Is simply when we're plum broke down and all knocked out o' whack, It he'ps to shape us up like,
The idy! Wadin round here over shoe-mouth deep in woe, When they's a graded 'pike o' joy and sunshine don't you know! When evening strikes the pastur', cows'll pull out fer the bars, And skittish-like from out the night'll prance the happy stars. And so when my time comes to die, and I've got ary friend 'At wants expressed my last request-- I'll mebby, rickommend To drive slow, ef they haf to, goin' 'long the out'ard track, But I'll smile and say, "You speed 'em
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