And then it closed by sayin' that I'd "better come and see."—
I'd never been West, anyhow—a most too wild fer me
I'd allus had a notion; but a lawyer here in town
Said I'd find myself mistakened when I come to look around.
So I bids good-bye to Mother, and I jumps aboard the train,
A-thinkin' what I'd bring her when I come back home again—
And ef she'd had an idy what the present was to be,
I think it's more'n likely she'd a-went along with me!
Cars is awful tejus ridin', fer all they go so fast!
But finally they called out my stoppin'-place at last;
And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp' I was a train
O' cars, and skeered at sompin', runnin' down a country lane!
Well, in the mornin' airly—after huntin' up the man—
The lawyer who was wantin' to swap the piece o' land—
We started fer the country; and I ast the history
Of the farm—its former owner—and so-forth, etcetery!
And—well—it was interestin'—I su'prised him, I suppose,
By the loud and frequent manner in which I blowed my nose!—
But his surprise was greater, and it made him wonder more,
When I kissed and hugged the widder when she met us at the door!—
It was Mary: They's a feelin' a-hidin' down in here—
Of course I can't explain it, ner ever make it clear.—
It was with us in that meetin', I don't want you to fergit!
And it makes me kind o' nervous when I think about it yit!
I bought that farm, and deeded it, afore I left the town,
With "title clear to mansions in the skies," to Mary Brown!
And fu'thermore, I took her and the childern—fer, you see,
They'd never seed their Grandma—and I fetched 'em home with me.
So now you've got an idy why a man o' fifty-four,
Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more,
Is a-lookin' glad and smilin'!—And I've jest come into town
To git a pair o' license fer to marry Mary Brown.
