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Title: Lower-Flat Annals
Author: Yukon Bill [
More Titles by Bill]
When we lived in Lower-Flat us folks know'd where we was at;
But them Eastern folks come, puttin' on great style:
Us Old-Timers, we all said we was better we was dead,
F'r th' way they talked an' acted, raised our bile.
They interduced new dances--thing-a-me-bobs called--"Lance's"----
Where they traipsed up an' down upon th' floor,
A-bowin' and a'scrapin' (lords an' ladies they was apin'),
Th' Red River Jig? 'Twa'n't never danced no more!
Sniffed at bannock--sniffed at bacon; then, dried apples, they was taken;
An' that good old dish "plum-duff" went out th' door;
Then "part singin'" in th' church--"A Choir" up in a perch----
And a "Tenner" frum th' city. Say, y' should a-heard HIM roar!
Then the pretty little crea'cher, boardin' 'round, th' country Teacher;
(Her we fought about f'r dances in th' barn)
SHE went out o' date; a "perfesser" come t' prate
About ologies an' colleges; things childern COULDN'T larn.
Then they started "makin' calls," ketched Pa in his over-alls;
But he met 'em with a "How'dy!" at th' door;
The place was in a clutter--Ma, she was churnin' butter,
An' Pa fetch'd 'em in th' kitchen, an' they didn't "call" no more.
That was Mrs. Mumble-Mumps. Say, she DID put on humps;
Took her daughter Gwendolina t' furrin lan's,
An' they say paid out shin-plasters t' one o' them Old Masters
F'r t' make a bust of Gwendolina's hands!
Gone was th' good old days, and gone th' good old ways
When an invitation meant th' fambly all;
When th' little an' th' big would crowd into th' rig,
An' th' fiddle livened up th' Chris'mus Ball.
It was "Welkim, welkim, Boys!" Lots of laughin', lots of noise;
With the babies piled like cordwood on th' floor;
Boys an' girls all dancin'--old folks too got prancin'----
An' th' supper? Say, we'd eat ontil we couldn't hold no more.
But them Eastern folks fetched "Style"; changed all that in a while;
Printed tickets told th' folks they was "to-home";
Served the supper frum "a buffey," an' they acted kind o' huffy
When our childern round the parler used t' roam.
House was full of bricky-brack; china tea-pot with a crack,--
An' they sort o' boasted of it; set it out t' common view;
Talked about the'r "Fambly Tree"--good land! why, they know'd that we
Had ninety acres of 'em--scrub-oak bluff--an' poplars too!
Then Miss Mary Ellen Jones (her that come from Pile-o'-Bones)
Lived in nothin' but a mud-shack all her life,
She got puttin' on some airs, an' her nose jes' said, "Who cares?"
And th' District Member picked HER f'r a wife.
She did cut a silly caper: had her envelopes an' paper
Painted with a little brand in blue sot up on top;
When th' Flat laugh'd, I'll be blest! she said, "It's Poppa's crest"!
Well! Providence, that year, hailed out their crop.
But Mary Ellen's fall come when they gave th' weddin'-ball;
Invited all th' stylish folks--gave us th' glassy eye;
But says Pa, "Th' next election we'll bust th' damn connection,
F'r th' District Member goes out on th' fly!"
He he'er'd that. He wanted votes. So them stylish printed notes
Come trailin' in t' us who'd been rejected;
But Mary Ellen said (underlined in ink bright red),
"PLEASE UNDERSTAND NO CHILDREN IS EXPECTED"!
That joke went far an' wide, us folks laugh'd ontil we cried;
But Retribution it was on th' District Member's shins,
F'r that sassy little bride who behaved so very snide,
Inside a year perduced a pair of TWINS!
Since that time we get on better. Mary Ellen wrote a letter
T' th' weekly paper, statin' "District Member liked our ways";
Yes, Lower Flat's grow'd quite a place, runnin' other towns a race;
But ther' ain't th' fun we had them good old days!
[The end]
Yukon Bill's poem: Lower-Flat Annals
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