But Marcus had an awful fright,—
That can not be denied;
"I'm glad 'tis over!"—when it was—
The host sat down and sighed,
And when he wrote to Atticus,
And all the story told,
He ended his epistle thus:
"J.C.'s a warrior bold,
"A vastly entertaining man,
In Learning quite immense,
So full of literary skill,
And most uncommon sense,
"But, frankly, I should never say
'No trouble, sir, at all;
And when you pass this way again,
Give us another call!'"
COMIN' HOME THANKSGIVIN'
BY JAMES BALL NAYLOR
I've clean fergot my rheumatiz—
Hain't nary limp n'r hobble;
I'm feelin' like a turkey-cock—
An' ready 'most to gobble;
I'm workin' spry, an' steppin' high—
An' thinkin' life worth livin'.
Fer all the children's comin' home
All comin' home Thanksgivin'.
There's Mary up at Darby Town,
An' Sally down at Goshen,
An' Billy out at Kirkersville,
An' Jim—who has a notion
That Hackleyburg's the very place
Fer which his soul has striven;
They're all a-comin' home ag'in—
All comin' home Thanksgivin'.
Yes—yes! They're all a-comin' back;
There ain't no ifs n'r maybes.
The boys'll fetch the'r wives an' kids;
The gals, th'r men an' babies.
The ol' place will be upside-down;
An' me an' Mammy driven
To roost out in the locus' trees—
When they come home Thanksgivin'.