THE SWITCH FOR HIRAM BROWN
That Hiram Brown he come to school and
brung in seven ticks;
He picked them off his father’s sheep—jes’ like
his dratted tricks!
One day that critter put a toad right in our
teacher’s chair,
She squatted down—and then got up! And
warn’t she mad for fair?
He brung in crawly bugs and things, a mouse
and onct a rat,
An’ then he sort o’ wound things up with
suthin’ wusser’n that.
The teacher cotched him that time, though, and
my! she combed him down
An’ I was sent to cut the switch that walloped
Hiram Brown.
Them ticks was in a pill-box doctor left when
Bill was sick,
An’ they was measly lookin’ things;—say,
j’ever see a tick?
While we was readin’ testermunt Hi stirred
’em with a pin,
—We all was wond’rin’ what he’d got, for he
was on the grin.
Then when the teacher turned her back, Hi
made for Ozy Blair
An’ turned the whole blamed seven ticks right
loose in Ozy’s hair.
Then Ozy had a spasm fit like what he’s sub-
jick to;
He squalled and clawed and bumped around till
he was black an’ blue.
An’ teacher took her fine-toothed comb an’
raked an’ scraped his head,
—It come nigh bustin’ up the school that way
that he raised Ned!
The teacher made us all set up as stiff and
straight as sticks,
An’ then says she, all raspy-like, “Who was it
brung them ticks?”
We couldn’t help it—swow to man!—We
looked at Hiram Brown
An’ Hi he set there redd’nin’ up and sort o’
lookin’ down.
An’ teacher sniffed an’ then she scowled an’
giv’ her sleeves a twitch,
An’ turned to me an’ then says she, “Ike, go
an’ cut a switch.”
’Twas dretful nice outdoors that day—it set a
feller wishin’
That he could cut an’ run from school an’ put
his time in fishin’.
’Twas one them soft’nin’ sort of days an’ while
I was a-pickin’
A switch, it come acrost me what a shame to git
a lickin’
On such a mighty pleasant day. So I shinned
up a tree
An’ cut a slimpsy popple switch that wouldn’t
hurt a flea.
Then I went in—there teacher was, a-waitin’
by the door,
The scholars set as still as death an’ Bill stood
in the floor.
But how they snickered when they see that
dinky little switch,
—The teacher broke it up on me an’ giv’ my
ear a twitch,
Says she, “You try that on agin, you’ll
git it
worse, you clown!
Now go, an’ see’f you know enough to cut
that switch for Brown.”
Seems’s if it warn’t so nice outdoors. It kind
o’ stirred my mad
To divvy up that way with Hi—’Cause ’twasn’t
me ’twas bad!
Says I, “By jing, I’ll even up.” I took my
biggest blade
An’ cut a switch that, honest true, it almost
made me ’fraid.
I didn’t trim it very dus’—by snummy, I felt
wicked,
I left the knobs all stickin’ out—an’ some of ’em
was pick-ed.
I passed ’er in. The teacher she ker-wished it
through the air,
An’ Hi he shivered; ’twas enough to fairly
curl his hair.
She fixed her hairpins so’s her pug it couldn’t
tumble down,
An’ then says she, like bitin’ nails, “Take off
your coat, Hi Brown.”
Then Hiram Brown he got right down an’
begged an’ teased an’ prayed,
She hit him once—an easy clip—an’ then he
fairly brayed.
He acted out in master style;—why, sence he’s
come of age
He’s makin’ money like all sin, play-actin’ on
the stage.
Our teacher was an easy mark—the tender
hearted kind—
When Hiram got to takin on she went and
changed her mind.
Says she, “You’ve been a naughty boy but if
you now repent
I’ll spare the rod but punish you in this way.”
Jee, she went
An’ sent that Hi acrost the room to sit with
Helen Dean,
The girl I liked the best in school; an’ Hi was
jest serene!
That warn’t the wust, for after school he licked
me like the deuce
Because I left them knobs all on. Oh, thun-
der, what’s the use
Of tryin’ to be good, sometimes? I know it’s
wicked talk
To intimate that vice may ride when virtue has
to walk;
To hint that folks of honest ways but moderate
in wits
May have their noses rubbed in dirt by rascal
hypocrites,
But truly, friends, it does appear that only mar-
tyrs’ crowns
Are passed to worth down here on earth;—the
rest to Hiram Browns.