Riley, James Whitcomb, 1849-1916 / 2008-07-10 00:00:00
--
"Old-Bob--_White_!"
Wunst our Hired Man an' me,
When we drove to Harmony,
Saw one, whistlin' "Old--Bob--_White_!"
An' we drove _wite clos't_, an' I
Saw him an' he didn't fly,--
Birds likes horses, an' that's why.
"Old--Bob--_White_!"
One time, Uncle Sidney says,
Wunst he rob' a Bob White's nes'
Of the eggs of "Old Bob White";
Nen he hatched 'em wiv a hen
An' her little chicks, an' nen
They ist all flewed off again!
"Old--Bob--_White_!"
* * * * *
A SESSION WITH UNCLE SIDNEY
[1869]
I
ONE OF HIS ANIMAL STORIES
Now, Tudens, you sit on _this_ knee--and 'scuse
It having no side-saddle on;--and, Jeems,
You sit on _this_--and don't you wobble so
And chug my old shins with your coppertoes;--
And, all the rest of you, range round someway,--
Ride on the rockers and hang to the arms
Of our old-time splint-bottom carryall!--
Do anything but _squabble_ for a place,
Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe _out loud_,
Or chew wet, or knead taffy in my beard!--
Do _any_thing almost--act _any_way,--
Only _keep still_, so I can hear myself
Trying to tell you "just one story more!"
One winter afternoon my father, with
A whistle to our dog, a shout to us--
His two boys--six and eight years old we were,--
Started off to the woods, a half a mile
From home, where he was chopping wood.
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