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A Bear Family

Wunst, 'way West in Illinoise,
Wuz two Bears an' their two boys:
An' the two boys' names, you know,
Wuz--like _ours_ is,--Jim an' Jo;
An' their _parunts'_ names wuz same's,
All big grown-up people's names,--
Ist _Miz_ Bear, the neighbers call
'Em, an' _Mister_ Bear--'at's all.
Yes--an' Miz Bear scold him, too,
Ist like grown folks _shouldn't_ do!

Wuz a grea'-big river there,
An', 'crosst that, 's a mountain where
Old Bear said some day he'd go,
Ef she don't quit scoldin'so!
So, one day when he been down
The river, fishin', 'most to town,
An' come back 'thout no fish a-tall,
An' Jim an' Jo they run an' bawl
An' tell their ma their pa hain't fetch'
No fish,--she scold again an' ketch
Her old broom up an' biff him, too.--

An' he ist cry, an' say, '_Boo-hoo_!
I _told_ you what I 'd do some day'.'
An' he ist turned an' runned away
To where's the grea'-big river there,
An' ist _splunged_ in an' swum to where
The mountain's at, 'way th'other side,
An' clumbed up there. An' Miz Bear _cried_--
An' little Jo an' little Jim--
Ist like their ma--bofe cried fer him!--
But he clumbed on, _clean out o' sight_,
He wuz so mad!--An' served 'em right!

Nen--when the Bear got 'way on top
The mountain, he heerd somepin' flop
Its wings--an' somepin' else he heerd
A-rattlin'-like.--An' he wuz _skeerd_,
An' looked 'way up, an'--_Mercy sake!_--

It wuz a' Eagul an' a SNAKE!
An'-sir! the Snake, he bite an' kill'
The Eagul, an' they bofe fall till
They strike the ground--_k'spang-k'spat!_--
Wite where the Bear wuz standin' at!
An' when here come the Snake at him,
The Bear he think o' little Jim
An' Jo, he did--an' their ma, too,--
All safe at home; an' he ist flew

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Rivals

Look heah! Is I evah tole you 'bout de curious way I won
Anna Liza? Say, I nevah? Well heah's how de thing wuz done.

Lize, you know, wuz mighty purty —dat's been forty yeahs ago —
'N 'cos to look at her dis minit, you might'n spose dat it wuz so.

She wuz jes de greates' 'traction in de county, 'n bless de lam'!
Eveh darkey wuz a-co'tin, but it lay 'twix me an' Sam.

You know Sam. We both wuz wukin' on de ole John Tompkin's place.
'N evehbody wuz a-watchin' t' see who's gwine to win de race.

Hee! hee! hee! Now you mus' raley 'scuse me fu' dis snickering,
But I jes can't he'p f'om laffin' eveh time I tells dis thing.

Ez I wuz a-sayin', me an' Sam wuked daily side by side,
He a-studyin', me a-studyin', how to win Lize fu' a bride.

Well, de race was kinder equal. Lize wuz sorter on de fence;
Sam he had de mostes dollars, an' I had de mostes sense.

Things dey run along 'bout eben tel der come Big Meetin' day;
Sam den thought, to win Miss Liza, he had foun' de shoest way.

An' you talk about big meetin's! None been like it 'fore nor sence;
Der wuz sich a crowd o' people dat we had to put up tents.

Der wuz preachers f'om de Eas', an' 'der wuz preachers f'om de Wes';
Folks had kilt mos' eveh chicken, an' wuz fattenin' up de res'.

Gals had all got new w'ite dresses, an' bought ribbens fu' der hair,
Fixin' fu' de openin' Sunday, prayin' dat de day'd be fair.

Dat de Reveren' Jasper Jones of Mount Moriah, it wuz 'low'd,
Wuz to preach de openin' sermon; so you know der wuz a crowd.

Fu' dat man wuz sho a preacher; had a voice jes like a bull;
So der ain't no use in sayin' dat de meetin' house wuz full.

Folks wuz der f'om Big Pine Hollow, some come 'way f'om Muddy Creek,
Some come jes to stay fu' Sunday, but de crowd stay'd thoo de week.

Some come ridin' in top-buggies wid de w'eels all painted red,
Pulled by mules dat run like rabbits, each one tryin' to git ahead.

Othah po'rer folks come drivin' mules dat leaned up 'ginst de shaf',
Hitched to broke-down, creaky wagons dat looked like dey'd drap in half.

But de bigges' crowd come walkin', wid der new shoes on der backs;
'Scuse wuz dat dey couldn't weah em 'cause de heels wuz full o' tacks.

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poem by James Weldon Johnson
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The Conversazzhony

What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know,
For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago;
The camp wuz new 'nd noisy, 'nd only modrit sized,
So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly crystallized.
There hadn't been no grand events to interest the men,
But a lynchin', or a inquest, or a jackpot now an' then.
The wimmin-folks wuz mighty scarce, for wimmin, ez a rool,
Don't go to Colorado much, excep' for teachin' school,
An' bein' scarce an' chipper and pretty (like as not),
The bachelors perpose, 'nd air accepted on the spot.

Now Sorry Tom wuz owner uv the Gosh-all-Hemlock mine,
The wich allowed his better haff to dress all-fired fine;
For Sorry Tom wuz mighty proud uv her, an' she uv him,
Though she wuz short an' tacky, an' he wuz tall an' slim,
An' she wuz edjicated, an' Sorry Tom wuz not,
Yet, for her sake, he'd whack up every cussid cent he'd got!
Waal, jest by way uv celebratin' matrimonial joys,
She thought she'd give a conversazzhyony to the boys,--
A peert an' likely lady, 'nd ez full uv 'cute idees
'Nd uv etiquettish notions ez a fyste is full uv fleas.

Three-fingered Hoover kind uv kicked, an' said they might be durned
So far ez any conversazzhyony was concerned;
He'd come to Red Hoss Mountain to tunnel for the ore,
An' not to go to parties,--quite another kind uv bore!
But, bein' he wuz candidate for marshal uv the camp,
I rayther had the upper holts in arguin' with the scamp;
Sez I, "Three-fingered Hoover, can't ye see it is yer game
To go for all the votes ye kin an' collar uv the same?"
The wich perceivin', Hoover sez, "Waal, ef I must, I must;
So I'll frequent that conversazzhyony, ef I bust!"

Three-fingered Hoover wuz a trump! Ez fine a man wuz he
Ez ever caused an inquest or blossomed on a tree!--
A big, broad man, whose face bespoke a honest heart within,--
With a bunch uv yaller whiskers appertainin' to his chin,
'Nd a fierce mustache turnt up so fur that both his ears wuz hid,
Like the picture that you always see in the "Life uv Cap'n Kidd."
His hair wuz long an' wavy an' fine as Southdown fleece,--
Oh, it shone an' smelt like Eden when he slicked it down with grease!
I'll bet there wuzn't anywhere a man, all round, ez fine
Ez wuz Three-fingered Hoover in the spring uv '69!

The conversazzhyony wuz a notable affair,
The bong tong deckolett 'nd en regaly bein' there;
The ranch where Sorry Tom hung out wuz fitted up immense,--
The Denver papers called it a "palashal residence."
There wuz mountain pines an' fern an' flowers a-hangin' on the walls,
An' cheers an' hoss-hair sofies wuz a-settin' in the halls;

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poem by Eugene Field
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Maymie's Story Of Red Riding Hood

W'y, one time wuz a little-weenty dirl,
An' she wuz named Red Riding Hood, 'cause her--
Her _Ma_ she maked a little red cloak fer her
'At turnt up over her head--An' it 'uz all
Ist one piece o' red cardinal 'at 's like
The drate-long stockin's the store-keepers has.--
O! it 'uz purtiest cloak in all the world
An' _all_ this town er anywheres they is!
An' so, one day, her Ma she put it on
Red Riding Hood, she did--one day, she did--
An' it 'uz _Sund'y_--'cause the little cloak
It 'uz too nice to wear ist _ever'_ day
An' _all_ the time!--An' so her Ma, she put
It on Red Riding Hood--an' telled her not
To dit no dirt on it ner dit it mussed
Ner nothin'! An'--an'--nen her Ma she dot
Her little basket out, 'at Old Kriss bringed
Her wunst--one time, he did. And nen she fill'
It full o' whole lots an' 'bundance o' good things t' eat
(Allus my Dran'ma _she_ says ''bundance,' too.)
An' so her Ma fill' little Red Riding Hood's
Nice basket all ist full o' dood things t' eat,
An' tell her take 'em to her old Dran'ma--
An' not to _spill_ 'em, neever--'cause ef she
'Ud stump her toe an' spill 'em, her Dran'ma
She'll haf to _punish_ her!

An' nen--An' so
Little Red Riding Hood she p'omised she
'Ud be all careful nen an' cross' her heart
'At she wont run an' spill 'em all fer six--
Five--ten--two-hundred-bushel-dollars-go ld!
An' nen she kiss her Ma doo'-bye an' went
A-skippin' off--away fur off frough the
Big woods, where her Dran'ma she live at.--No!--
She didn't do _a-skippin'_, like I said:--
She ist went _walkin'_--careful-like an' slow--
Ist like a little lady--walkin' 'long
As all polite an' nice--an' slow--an' straight--
An' turn her toes--ist like she's marchin' in
The Sund'y-School k-session!

An'--an'--so
She 'uz a-doin' along--an' doin' along--
On frough the drate big woods--'cause her Dran'ma
She live 'way, 'way fur off frough the big woods
From _her_ Ma's house. So when Red Riding Hood
She dit to do there, allus have most fun--
When she do frough the drate big woods, you know.--
'Cause she ain't feared a bit o' anything!

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Casey's Table D'Hote

Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when the skies wuz fair 'nd blue,
When the money flowed like likker, 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true!
When the nights wuz crisp 'nd balmy, 'nd the camp wuz all astir,
With the joints all throwed wide open 'nd no sheriff to demur!
Oh, them times on Red Hoss Mountain in the Rockies fur away,--
There's no sich place nor times like them as I kin find to-day!
What though the camp _hez_ busted? I seem to see it still
A-lyin', like it loved it, on that big 'nd warty hill;
And I feel a sort of yearnin' 'nd a chokin' in my throat
When I think of Red Hoss Mountain 'nd of Casey's tabble dote!

Wal, yes; it's true I struck it rich, but that don't cut a show
When one is old 'nd feeble 'nd it's nigh his time to go;
The money that he's got in bonds or carries to invest
Don't figger with a codger who has lived a life out West;
Us old chaps like to set around, away from folks 'nd noise,
'Nd think about the sights we seen and things we done when boys;
The which is why _I_ love to set 'nd think of them old days
When all us Western fellers got the Colorado craze,--
And _that_ is why I love to set around all day 'nd gloat
On thoughts of Red Hoss Mountain 'nd of Casey's tabble dote.

This Casey wuz an Irishman,--you'd know it by his name
And by the facial features appertainin' to the same.
He'd lived in many places 'nd had done a thousand things,
From the noble art of actin' to the work of dealin' kings,
But, somehow, hadn't caught on; so, driftin' with the rest,
He drifted for a fortune to the undeveloped West,
And he come to Red Hoss Mountain when the little camp wuz new,
When the money flowed like likker, 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true;
And, havin' been a stewart on a Mississippi boat,
He opened up a caffy 'nd he run a tabble dote.

The bar wuz long 'nd rangy, with a mirrer on the shelf,
'Nd a pistol, so that Casey, when required, could help himself;
Down underneath there wuz a row of bottled beer 'nd wine,
'Nd a kag of Burbun whiskey of the run of '59;
Upon the walls wuz pictures of hosses 'nd of girls,--
Not much on dress, perhaps, but strong on records 'nd on curls!
The which had been identified with Casey in the past,--
The hosses 'nd the girls, I mean,--and both wuz mighty fast!
But all these fine attractions wuz of precious little note
By the side of what wuz offered at Casey's tabble dote.

There wuz half-a-dozen tables altogether in the place,
And the tax you had to pay upon your vittles wuz a case;
The boardin'-houses in the camp protested 't wuz a shame
To patronize a robber, which this Casey wuz the same!
They said a case was robbery to tax for ary meal;
But Casey tended strictly to his biz, 'nd let 'em squeal;

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poem by Eugene Field
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Prof. vere de blaw

Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote
Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note,
Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place,
In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race;
'Nd uv the many features Casey managed to import
The most important wuz a Steenway gran' pianny-fort,
An' bein' there wuz nobody could play upon the same,
He telegraffed to Denver, 'nd a real perfesser came,--
The last an' crownin' glory uv the Casey restauraw
Wuz that tenderfoot musicianer, Perfesser Vere de Blaw!

His hair wuz long an' dishybill, an' he had a yaller skin,
An' the absence uv a collar made his neck look powerful thin:
A sorry man he wuz to see, az mebby you'd surmise,
But the fire uv inspiration wuz a-blazin' in his eyes!
His name wuz Blanc, wich same is Blaw (for that's what Casey said,
An' Casey passed the French ez well ez any Frenchie bred);
But no one ever reckoned that it really wuz his name,
An' no one ever asked him how or why or whence he came,--
Your ancient history is a thing the Coloradan hates,
An' no one asks another what his name wuz in the States!

At evenin', when the work wuz done, an' the miners rounded up
At Casey's, to indulge in keerds or linger with the cup,
Or dally with the tabble dote in all its native glory,
Perfessor Vere de Blaw discoursed his music repertory
Upon the Steenway gran' piannyfort, the wich wuz sot
In the hallway near the kitchen (a warm but quiet spot),
An' when De Blaw's environments induced the proper pride,--
Wich gen'rally wuz whiskey straight, with seltzer on the side,--
He throwed his soulful bein' into opry airs 'nd things
Wich bounded to the ceilin' like he'd mesmerized the strings.

Oh, you that live in cities where the gran' piannies grow,
An' primy donnies round up, it's little that you know
Uv the hungerin' an' the yearnin' wich us miners an' the rest
Feel for the songs we used to hear before we moved out West.
Yes, memory is a pleasant thing, but it weakens mighty quick;
It kind uv dries an' withers, like the windin' mountain crick,
That, beautiful, an' singin' songs, goes dancin' to the plains,
So long ez it is fed by snows an' watered by the rains;
But, uv that grace uv lovin' rains 'nd mountain snows bereft,
Its bleachin' rocks, like dummy ghosts, is all its memory left.

The toons wich the perfesser would perform with sech eclaw
Would melt the toughest mountain gentleman I ever saw,--
Sech touchin' opry music ez the Trovytory sort,
The sollum "Mizer Reery," an' the thrillin' "Keely Mort;"
Or, sometimes, from "Lee Grond Dooshess" a trifle he would play,
Or morsoze from a' opry boof, to drive dull care away;

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poem by Eugene Field
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Big Jilm

Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim
Dreamin and schemin, screamin and bleedin - big jim
Froggy in the meadow under the log - big jim
Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim
Big jim
Whats the biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim
I mean, whats the biggest, biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim
Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
(doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo)
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim (big jim!)
Dreamin and schemin, screamin and bleedin - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
Froggy in the meadow under the log - big jim (big jim!)
Big jim
I mean, biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim (big jim)
Biggest thing you ever did done see - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
Doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo (big jim)
Doo doo doo

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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Marthy's younkit

The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way
Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play;
The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their heads to hear
The music uv the little feet that had somehow grown so dear;
The magpies, like winged shadders, wuz a-flutterin' to an' fro
Among the rocks an' holler stumps in the ragged gulch below;
The pines an' hemlocks tosst their boughs (like they wuz arms) and made
Soft, sollum music on the slope where he had often played;
But for these lonesome, sollum voices on the mountain-side,
There wuz no sound the summer day that Marthy's younkit died.

We called him Marthy's younkit, for Marthy wuz the name
Uv her ez wuz his mar, the wife uv Sorry Tom,--the same
Ez taught the school-house on the hill, way back in '69,
When she marr'd Sorry Tom, wich owned the Gosh-all-Hemlock mine!
And Marthy's younkit wuz their first, wich, bein' how it meant
The first on Red Hoss Mountain, wuz truly a' event!
The miners sawed off short on work ez soon ez they got word
That Dock Devine allowed to Casey what had just occurred;
We loaded up an' whooped around until we all wuz hoarse
Salutin' the arrival, wich weighed ten pounds, uv course!

Three years, and sech a pretty child!--his mother's counterpart!
Three years, an' sech a holt ez he had got on every heart!
A peert an' likely little tyke with hair ez red ez gold,
A-laughin', toddlin' everywhere,--'nd only three years old!
Up yonder, sometimes, to the store, an' sometimes down the hill
He kited (boys is boys, you know,--you couldn't keep him still!)
An' there he'd play beside the brook where purpul wild-flowers grew,
An' the mountain pines an' hemlocks a kindly shadder threw,
An' sung soft, sollum toons to him, while in the gulch below
The magpies, like strange sperrits, went flutterin' to an' fro.

Three years, an' then the fever come,--it wuzn't right, you know,
With all us old ones in the camp, for that little child to go;
It's right the old should die, but that a harmless little child
Should miss the joy uv life an' love,--that can't be reconciled!
That's what we thought that summer day, an' that is what we said
Ez we looked upon the piteous face uv Marthy's younkit dead.
But for his mother's sobbin', the house wuz very still,
An' Sorry Tom wuz lookin', through the winder, down the hill,
To the patch beneath the hemlocks where his darlin' used to play,
An' the mountain brook sung lonesomelike an' loitered on its way.

A preacher come from Roarin' Crick to comfort 'em an' pray,
'Nd all the camp wuz present at the obsequies next day;
A female teacher staged it twenty miles to sing a hymn,
An' we jined her in the chorus,--big, husky men an' grim
Sung "Jesus, Lover uv my Soul," an' then the preacher prayed,
An' preacht a sermon on the death uv that fair blossom laid

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poem by Eugene Field
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Our Lady of the Mine

The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;
'T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine,--somewhere along in summer,--
There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;
His name wuz Silas Pettibone,--a' artist by perfession,--
With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession.
He told us, by our leave, he 'd kind uv like to make some sketches
Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain
stretches;
"You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us
A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-floo-us.

All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin',--
At daybreak off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'
That everlastin' book uv his with spider-lines all through it;
Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it.
"Gol durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at
A-drawin' hills that's full uv quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"
"Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye;
But one uv these fine times I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"
The which remark led us to think--although he didn't say it--
That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.

One evenin' as we sat around the Restauraw de Casey,
A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,
In come that feller Pettibone, 'nd sez, "With your permission,
I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."
He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,
Sayin', "I reckon you'll allow as how that's art, f'r certain!"
And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,
And f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken--
Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:
"Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"

It wuz a face--a human face--a woman's, fair 'nd tender--
Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;
The hair wuz kind uv sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,
The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;
It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,
And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer, fonder,--
Like, lookin' off into the west, where mountain mists wuz fallin',
She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';
"Hooray!" we cried,--"a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon!
Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"

A curious situation,--one deservin' uv your pity,--
No human, livin', female thing this side of Denver City!
But jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters,--
Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?
And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him

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poem by Eugene Field
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The Baldness Of Chewed-Ear

When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee,
His flowin' locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an' free;
But in old Hymen's jack-pot, it's a most amazin' thing,
Them flowin' locks jest disappeared like snow-balls in the Spring;
Jest seemed to wilt an' fade away like dead leaves in the Fall,
An' left old Chewed-ear balder than a white-washed cannon ball.

Now Missis Chewed-ear Jenkins, that wuz Guinneyveer McGee,
Wuz jest about as fine a draw as ever made a pair;
But when the boys got joshin' an' suggested it was she
That must be inflooenshul for the old man's slump in hair --
Why! Missis Chewed-ear Jenkins jest went clean up in the air.

"To demonstrate," sez she that night, "the lovin' wife I am,
I've bought a dozen bottles of Bink's Anty-Dandruff Balm.
'Twill make yer hair jest sprout an' curl like squash-vines in the sun,
An' I'm propose to sling it on till every drop is done."
That hit old Chewed-ear's funny side, so he lays back an' hollers:
"The day you raise a hair, old girl, you'll git a thousand dollars."

Now, whether 'twas the prize or not 'tis mighty hard to say,
But Chewed-ear didn't seem to have much comfort from that day.
With bottles of that dandruff dope she followed at his heels,
An' sprinkled an' massaged him even when he ate his meals.
She waked him from his beauty sleep with tender, lovin' care,
An' rubbed an' scrubbed assiduous, yet never sign of hair.

Well, naturally all the boys soon tumbled to the joke,
An' at the Wow-wow's Social 'twas Cold-deck Davis spoke:
"The little woman's working mighty hard on Chewed-ear's crown;
Let's give her for a three-fifth's share a hundred dollars down.
We stand to make five hundred clear -- boys, drink in whiskey straight:
`The Chewed-ear Jenkins Hirsute Propagation Syndicate'."

The boys wuz on, an' soon chipped in the necessary dust;
They primed up a committy to negotiate the deal;
Then Missis Jenkins yielded, bein' rather in disgust,
An' all wuz signed an' witnessed, an' invested with a seal.
They rounded up old Chewed-ear, an' they broke it what they'd done;
Allowed they'd bought an interest in his chance of raisin' hair;
They yanked his hat off anxiouslike, opinin' one by one
Their magnifyin' glasses showed fine prospects everywhere.
They bought Hairlene, an' Thatchem, an' Jay's Capillery Juice,
An' Seven Something Sisters, an' Macassar an' Bay Rum,
An' everyone insisted on his speshul right to sluice
His speshul line of lotion onto Chewed-ear's cranium.
They only got the merrier the more the old man roared,
An' shares in "Jenkins Hirsute" went sky-highin' on the board.

The Syndicate wuz hopeful that they'd demonstrate the pay,

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poem by Robert William Service
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Noey's Night-Piece

'They ain't much 'tale' about it!' Noey said.--
'K'tawby grapes wuz gittin' good-n-red
I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me
'Ud kindo' browse round town, daytime, to see
What neighbers 'peared to have the most to spare
'At wuz git-at-able and no dog there
When we come round to git 'em, say 'bout ten
O'clock at night when mostly old folks then
Wuz snorin' at each other like they yit
Helt some old grudge 'at never slep' a bit.
Well, at the _Pars'nige_--ef ye'll call to mind,--
They's 'bout the biggest grape-arber you'll find
'Most anywheres.--And mostly there, we knowed
They wuz _k'tawbies_ thick as ever growed--
And more'n they'd _p'serve_.--Besides I've heerd
Ma say k'tawby-grape-p'serves jes 'peared
A waste o' sugar, anyhow!--And so
My conscience stayed outside and lem me go
With Tubb, one night, the back-way, clean up through
That long black arber to the end next to
The house, where the k'tawbies, don't you know,
Wuz thickest. And t'uz lucky we went _slow_,--
Fer jest as we wuz cropin' tords the gray-
End, like, of the old arber--heerd Tubb say
In a skeered whisper, 'Hold up! They's some one
Jes slippin' in here!--and _looks like a gun_
He's carryin'!' I _golly!_ we both spread
Out flat aginst the ground!

''What's that?' Tubb said.--
And jest then--'_plink! plunk! plink!_' we heerd something
Under the back-porch-winder.--Then, i jing!
Of course we rickollected 'bout the young
School-mam 'at wuz a-boardin' there, and sung,
And played on the melodium in the choir.--
And she 'uz 'bout as purty to admire
As any girl in town!--the fac's is, she
Jest _wuz_, them times, to a dead certainty,
The belle o' this-here bailywick!--But--Well,--
I'd best git back to what I'm tryin' to tell:--
It wuz some feller come to serenade
Miss Wetherell: And there he plunked and played
His old guitar, and sung, and kep' his eye
Set on her winder, blacker'n the sky!--
And black it _stayed_.--But mayby she wuz 'way
From home, er wore out--bein' _Saturday!_

'It _seemed_ a good-'eal _longer_, but I _know_
He sung and plunked there half a' hour er so
Afore, it 'peared like, he could ever git

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Das Schlauraffen Landt.

Ain gegent haist Schlauraffen land,
Den faulen leuten wol bekant,
Das ligt drey meyl hinder Weyhnachten.
Vnd welcher darein wölle trachten,
5
Der muß sich grosser ding vermessn
Vnd durch ein Berg mit Hirßbrey essn,
Der ist wol dreyer Meylen dick.
Als dann ist er im augenblick
Inn den selbing Schlauraffen Landt,
10
Da aller Reychthumb ist bekant.
Da sind die Heuser deckt mit Fladn,
Leckuchen die Haußthür vnd ladn,
Von Speckuchen Dielen vnd wend,
Die Tröm von Schweynen braten send.
15
Vmb yedes Hauß so ist ein Zaun,
Geflochten von Bratwürsten braun.
Von Maluasier so sindt die Brunnen,
Kommen eim selbs ins maul gerunnen.
Auff den Tannen wachssen Krapffen,
20
Wie hie zu Land die Tannzapffen.
Auff Fichten wachssen bachen schnittn.
Ayrpletz thut man von Pircken schüttn.
Wie Pfifferling wachssen die Fleckn,
Die Weyntrauben inn Dorenheckn.
25
Auff Weyden koppen Semel stehn,
Darunter Pech mit Milich gehn;
Die fallen dann inn Pach herab,
Das yederman zu essen hab.
Auch gehen die Visch inn den Lachn
30
Gsotten, Braten, Gsulzt vnd pachn
Vnd gehn bey dem gestat gar nahen,
Lassen sich mit den henden fahen.
Auch fliegen vmb (müget jr glaubn)
Gebraten Hüner, Genß vnd Taubn.
35
Wer sie nicht facht vnd ist so faul,
Dem fliegen sie.selbs in das maul.
Die Sew all Jar gar wol geratn,
Lauffen im Land vmb, sind gebratn.
Yede eyn Messer hat im rück
40
Darmit eyn yeder schneydt eyn stück
Und steckt das Messer wider dreyn.
Die Creutzkeß wachssen wie die steyn.

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poem by Hans Sachs
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James Holladay (Demo)

James Holladay was a working man
He made his living on the land
But living alone was too much to stand
So Jim found a woman to understand
Two years passed living in joy
When out of the blue came a baby boy
Just to keep up the family name
Mister Holladay said we'll call him little James
So you better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Little James became a working man
He followed his pa right across the land
At the end of the day when his work was done
He'd sit and watch the setting southern sun
Nineteen years had come and gone
Little Jimmy had grown up big and strong
He didn't know that his time had come
When they handed him a shiny black gun
So his pa said, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
So you better run, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
So you better run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
(fade)

song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde

Hyde, Hyde.
Hyde, hyde.
Someone is spending my money for me,
Someone is spending my money for me,
The money I earn I never see,
The money i earn i never see,
In all things I do he interferes,
In all things i do he interferes,
All I know is trouble as soon as he appears.
All i know is trouble as soon as he appears.
Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Hyde.
Mister hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, hyde.
When I drink my potion my character changes,
When i drink my potion my character changes,
My whole mind and body rearranges,
My whole mind and body rearranges,
This strange transformation takes place in me,
This strange transformation takes place in me,
Instead of myself everybody can see...
Instead of myself everybody can see...
Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Hyde.
Mister hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, hyde.
Whenever you're with me make sure it's still me,
Whenever you're with me make sure it's still me,
I've got to the stage I can't tell which I'll be,
I've got to the stage i can't tell which i'll be,
The loveable fellow who'll buy you a drink,
The loveable fellow who'll buy you a drink,
Then when he's drunk his he'll change in a wink into...
Then when he's drunk his he'll change in a wink into...
Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Mister Hyde, Hyde.
Hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, mister hyde, hyde.

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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West End Girls

(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys

[...] Read more

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun

Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.
His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view
Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.
Thar warn't no places vacant then,--fer be it understood,
That wuz the time when talent flourished at that altitood;
But thar the stranger lingered, tellin' Raymond 'nd the rest
Uv what perdigious wonders he could do when at his best,
Till finally he stated (quite by chance) that he hed done
A heap uv work with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, that wuz quite another thing; we owned that ary cuss
Who'd worked f'r Mr. Dana must be good enough fer us!
And so we tuk the stranger's word 'nd nipped him while we could,
For if we didn't take him we knew John Arkins would;
And Cooper, too, wuz mouzin' round fer enterprise 'nd brains,
Whenever them commodities blew in across the plains.
At any rate we nailed him, which made ol' Cooper swear
And Arkins tear out handfuls uv his copious curly hair;
But we set back and cackled, 'nd bed a power uv fun
With our man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

It made our eyes hang on our cheeks 'nd lower jaws ter drop,
Ter hear that feller tellin' how ol' Dana run his shop:
It seems that Dana wuz the biggest man you ever saw,--
He lived on human bein's, 'nd preferred to eat 'em raw!
If he hed Democratic drugs ter take, before he took 'em,
As good old allopathic laws prescribe, he allus shook 'em.
The man that could set down 'nd write like Dany never grew,
And the sum of human knowledge wuzn't half what Dana knew;
The consequence appeared to be that nearly every one
Concurred with Mr. Dana of the Noo York Sun.

This feller, Cantell Whoppers, never brought an item in,--
He spent his time at Perrin's shakin' poker dice f'r gin.
Whatever the assignment, he wuz allus sure to shirk,
He wuz very long on likker and all-fired short on work!
If any other cuss had played the tricks he dared ter play,
The daisies would be bloomin' over his remains to-day;
But somehow folks respected him and stood him to the last,
Considerin' his superior connections in the past.
So, when he bilked at poker, not a sucker drew a gun
On the man who 'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, Dana came ter Denver in the fall uv '83.
A very different party from the man we thought ter see,--
A nice 'nd clean old gentleman, so dignerfied 'nd calm,
You bet yer life he never did no human bein' harm!
A certain hearty manner 'nd a fulness uv the vest
Betokened that his sperrits 'nd his victuals wuz the best;

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
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Tommy's Dead

YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.

There's something not right, boys,

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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I Know What Boys Like

Boys, boys
He you wanna know something?
Boys, boys
Boys like girls
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)
I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!
Boys, b-b-boys
Boys, b-b-b-boys
G-g-g-g-got what boys want
G-g-g-got

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song performed by Vitamin C
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Mylora Elopement

By the winding Wollondilly where the weeping willows weep,
And the shepherd, with his billy, half awake and half asleep,
Folds his fleecy flocks that linger homewards in the setting sun
Lived my hero, Jim the Ringer, "cocky" on Mylora Run.
Jimmy loved the super's daughter, Miss Amelia Jane McGrath.
Long and earnestly he sought her, but he feared her stern papa;
And Amelia loved him truly -- but the course of love, if true,
Never yet ran smooth or duly, as I think it ought to do.

Pondering o'er his predilection, Jimmy watched McGrath, the boss,
Riding past his lone selection, looking for a station 'oss
That was running in the ranges with a mob of outlaws wild.
Mac the time of day exchanges -- off goes Jim to see his child;

Says, "The old man's after Stager, which he'll find is no light job,
And tomorrow I will wager he will try and yard the mob.
Will you come with me tomorrow? I will let the parson know,
And for ever, joy or sorrow, he will join us here below.

"I will bring the nags so speedy, Crazy Jane and Tambourine,
One more kiss -- don't think I'm greedy -- good-bye, lass, before I'm seen --
Just one more -- God bless you, dearie! Don't forget to meet me here,
Life without you is but weary; now, once more, good-bye, my dear."

* * * * *
The daylight shines on figures twain
That ride across Mylora Plain,
Laughing and talking -- Jim and Jane.
"Steady, darling. There's lots of time,
Didn't we slip the old man prime!
I knew he'd tackle that Bowneck mob,
I reckon he'll find it too big a job.
They've beaten us all. I had a try,
But the warrigal devils seem to fly.
That Sambo's a real good but of stuff
No doubt, but not quite good enough.
He'll have to gallop the livelong day,
To cut and come, to race and stay.
I hope he yards 'em, 'twill do him good;
To see us going I don't think would."
A turn in the road and, fair and square,
They meet the old man standing there.
"What's up?" "Why, running away, of course,"
Says Jim, emboldened. The old man turned,
His eye with wild excitement burned.
"I've raced all day through the scorching heat
After old Bowneck: and now I'm beat.
But over that range I think you'll find
The Bowneck mob all run stone-blind.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Es Ist Nie Vorbei

Together:
Sam bo rom bom
Es ist nie vorbei
Sam bo rom bom
Sam bo rom bom
Ich denk' an dich
Sam bo rom bom
Ich hab sehnsucht nach dir
Blmchen:
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Verliebt in alle ewigkeit
Manchmal gibt es streit
Aber mit der zeit
Kommt die sehnsucht wieder
Und ich denk' an dich
Und du an mich
Wir sehen uns beide magischen
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Wie ein unsichtsbares paar
E-type:
We've come a long way
It's been a rough ride
Tell me why all the good things has to come to an end
We've left no stone unturned
Tell me what
How will i miss you already waiting for your return
Together:
Sam bo rom bom
Es ist nie vorbei
Sam bo rom bom
Sam bo rom bom
Ich denk' an dich
Sam bo rom bom
Ich hab sehnsucht nach dir
Blmchen:
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Verliebt in alle ewigkeit
Manchmal gibt es streit
Aber mit der zeit
Kommt die sehnsucht wieder
Und ich denk' an dich
Und du an mich
Wir sehen uns beide magischen
Es ist nie vorbei
Es ist zauberei
Wie ein unsichtsbares paar
E-type:

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song performed by E-type
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Raggedy Man

1 O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa;
2 An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!
3 He comes to our house every day,
4 An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay;
5 An' he opens the shed -- an' we all ist laugh
6 When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;
7 An' nen -- ef our hired girl says he can --
8 He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. --
9 Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man?
10 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

11 W'y, The Raggedy Man -- he's ist so good,
12 He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood;
13 An' nen he spades in our garden, too,
14 An' does most things 'at boys can't do. --
15 He clumbed clean up in our big tree
16 An' shooked a' apple down fer me --
17 An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann --
18 An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. --
19 Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man?
20 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

21 An' The Raggedy Man one time say he
22 Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree,
23 An' et 'em -- all ist roast' an' hot! --
24 An' it's so, too! -- 'cause a corn-crib got
25 Afire one time an' all burn' down
26 On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town --
27 On "The Smoot Farm"! Yes -- an' the hired han'
28 'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man! --
29 Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man?
30 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

31 The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind
32 He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind
33 Ever'thing 'at you make him do --
34 An' won't run off -- 'less you want him to!
35 I drived him wunst way down our lane
36 An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain,
37 An' ist rared up an' squealed and run
38 Purt' nigh away! -- an' it's all in fun!
39 Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can ...
40 Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man!
41 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

42 An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes,
43 An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes:
44 Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves,
45 An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves:
46 An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot,

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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