The Way It Wuz
Las' July--an', I persume
'Bout as hot
As the ole Gran'-Jury room
Where they sot!--
Fight 'twixt Mike an' Dock McGriff--
'Pears to me jes' like as if
I'd a dremp' the whole blame thing--
Allus ha'nts me roun' the gizzard
When they're nightmares on the wing,
An' a feller's blood's jes' friz!
Seed the row from a to izzard--
'Cause I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!
Tell you the way it wuz--
An' I do n't want to see,
Like _some_ fellers does,
When they 're goern to be
Any kind o' fuss--
On'y makes a rumpus wuss
Far to interfere
When their dander's riz--
But I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!
I wuz kind o' strayin'
Past the blame saloon--
Heerd some fiddler playin'
That 'ole hee-cup tune!'
Sort o' stopped, you know,
Far a minit er so,
And wuz jes' about
Settin' down, when--_Jeemses-whizz!_
Whole durn winder-sash fell out!
An' there laid Doc McGriff, and Mike
A-straddlin' him, all bloody-like,
An' both a-gittin' down to biz!--
An' I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!
I wuz the on'y man aroun'--
(Durn old-fogy town!
'Peared more like, to me,
_Sund'y_ 'an _Saturd'y!)_
Dog come 'crost the road
An' tuck a smell
An' put right back;
Mishler driv by 'ith a load
O' cantalo'pes he couldn't sell--
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Added by Poetry Lover
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