She's little and modest and purty,
As red as a rose and as sweet;
Her children don't ever look dirty,
Her kitchen ain't no way but neat.
She's the kind of a woman ter cherish,
A help ter a feller through life,
Yet every old hen in the parish
Is down on the minister's wife.
'Twas Mrs. 'Lige Hawkins begun it;
She always has had the idee
That the church was built so's she could run it,
'Cause Hawkins is deacon, yer see;
She thought that the whole congregation
Kept step ter the tune of her fife,
But she found 't was a wrong calkerlation
Applied ter the minister's wife.
Then Mrs. Jedge Jenks got excited—
She thinks she's the whole upper crust;—
When she found the Smiths was invited
Ter meet'n', she quit in disgust.
"You can have all the paupers yer choose to,"
Says she, jest as sharp as a knife;
"But if they go ter church I refuse to!"
"Good-by!" says the minister's wife.
And then Mrs. Jackson got stuffy
At her not comin' sooner ter call,
And old Miss Macgregor is huffy
'Cause she went up ter Jackson's at all.
Each one of the crowd hates the other,
The church has been full of their strife;
But now they're all hatin' another,
And that one's the minister's wife.
But still, all their cackle unheedin',
She goes, in her ladylike way,
A-givin' the poor what they're needing
And helpin' the church every day:
Our numbers each Sunday is swelling
And real, true religion is rife,
And sometimes I feel like a-yellin',
"Three cheers fer the minister's wife!"
THE VILLAGE ORACLE
"I am Sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips let no dog bark!"
Old Dan'l Hanks he says this town
Is jest the best on earth;
He says there ain't one, up nor down,
That's got one half her worth;
He says there ain't no other state
That's good as ourn, nor near;
And all the folks that's good and great
Is settled right 'round here.
Says I "D'jer ever travel, Dan?"
"You bet I ain't!" says he;
"I tell you what! the place I've got
Is good enough fer me!"
He says the other party's fools,
'Cause they don't vote his way;
He says the "feeble-minded schools"
Is where they ought ter stay;
If he was law their mouths he'd shut,
Or blow 'em all ter smash;
He says their platform's nawthin' but
A great big mess of trash.
Says I, "D'jer ever read it, Dan?"
"You bet I ain't!" says he;
"And when I do; well, I tell you,
I'll let you know, by gee!"
He says that all religion's wrong
'Cept jest what he believes;
He says them ministers belong
In jail, the same as thieves;
He says they take the blessed Word
And tear it all ter shreds;
He says their preachin's jest absurd;
They're simply leatherheads.
Says I, "D'jer ever hear 'em, Dan?"
"You bet I ain't!" says he;
"I'd never go ter hear 'em; no;
They make me sick ter see!"
Some fellers reckon, more or less,
Before they speak their mind,
And sometimes calkerlate or guess,—
But them ain't Dan'l's kind.
The Lord knows all things, great or small,
With doubt he's never vexed;
He, in his wisdom, knows it all,—
But Dan'l Hanks comes next.
Says I, "How d' yer know you're right?"
"How do I know?" says he;
"Well, now, I vum! I know, by gum!
I'm right because I be!"