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54 |
BLUE GRASS BALLADS |
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The river glints beneath the sun's fierce glare, And mists hang o'er the far-off hills.
The pigeons croon beneath the eaving-frieze, A kitten sleeps in " mammy's " lap,
And in a hammock, swung betwixt two trees, " Old marster " takes his noon-tide nap. |
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OLD MART AN' ME.
Hit's been so monstrous long ago it seems jes
like a dream, Sence we was only chunks er boys—a rough-an'
tumble team— That useter dam the spring house branch an' set
up flutter wheels, An' work so dead in arnest that we often miss'd
our meals, An' sometimes fit en quarreled till we war a
sight to see,
An' frequent we got licked for that, Old Mart an' me.
Time come we had to go to school—some furder
en a mile— But what we larnt, until this day, jis sorter
makes me smile; 'Twas little mo than nuthin', en we got it, inch
by inch, |
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