Josiah wuz dretful took with it.
I shed tears and wept to hear some on ’em.
“Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled.”
And “Auld Joe Nickleson’s Bonnie Nannie.”
My heart sort o’ listened as I hearn the words. I had hearn our Tirzah Ann sing ’em in the melancholy stillness of a June evenin’, when through the open winder the distant sounds of the frogs and the tree-tuds would come in from the cedar swamp, fur off, and the moonlight throw all over her and the organ the long shadders of the mornin’-glories.
This is one of the verses—
“There is mony a joy in this world below,
But sweet are the hopes that to sing were uncanny;
But of all the joys I aer hae known,