Pap’s got his patent right, and rich as all creation; But where ’s the peace and comfort that we all had before? Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station— Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! The likes of us a-livin’ here! It ’s just a mortal pity To see us in this great big house, with cyarpets on the stairs, And the pump right in the kitchen! And the city! city! city!— And nothin’ but the city all around us ever’wheres! Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple, And never see a robin, nor a beech or ellum tree! And right here in ear-shot of at least a thousan’ people, And none that neighbors with us, or we want to go and see! Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station— Back where the latch-string ’s a-hangin’ from the door, And ever’ neighbor ’round the place is dear as a relation— Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin’ A-drivin’ up from Shallor Ford to stay the Sunday through; And I want to see ’em hitchin’ at their son-in-law’s and pilin’ Out there at ’Lizy Ellen’s like they ust to do! I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin’; And I want to pester Laury ’bout their freckled hired hand, And joke her ’bout the widower she come purt’ nigh a-takin’, Till her pap got his pension ’lowed in time to save his land. Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s station— Back where they ’s nothin’ aggervatin’ anymore; Shet away safe in the woods around the old location— Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! I want to see Marindy and he’p her with her sewin’, And hear her talk so lovin’ of her man that ’s dead and gone, And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he ’s growin’, And smile as I have saw her ’fore she put her mournin’ on. And I want to see the Samples, on the old lower eighty— Where John our oldest boy, he was tuk and buried—for His own sake and Katy’s—and I want to cry with Katy As she reads all his letters over, writ from The War. What ’s all this grand life and high situation, And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin’ at the door?— Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station— Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
Griggsby’s Station
More from Poet
-
Pap’s got his patent right, and rich as all creation; But where ’s the peace and comfort that we all had before? Le’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station— Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore! The likes of us a-livin’ here! It ’s just a mortal pity To see us in this great big...
-
Old man never had much to say— ’Ceptin’ to Jim,— And Jim was the wildest boy he had, And the old man jes’ wrapped up in him! Never heerd him speak but once Er twice in my life,—and first time was When the army broke out, and Jim he went, The old man backin’ him, fer three months; And all ’at...
-
Jest rain and snow! and rain again! And dribble! drip! and blow! Then snow! and thaw! and slush! and then— Some more rain and snow! This morning I was ’most afeard To wake up—when, I jing! I seen the sun shine out and heerd The first blue-bird of Spring!— Mother she ’d raised the winder...
-
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder ’s in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock, And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens, And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O it ’s then ’s the times a feller is a-feelin...
-
I. tell you what I like the best— ’Long about knee-deep in June, ’Bout the time strawberries melts On the vines—some afternoon Like to jes’ git out and rest, And not work at nothin’ else! II. Orchard’s where I’ ruther be— Needn’t fence it in for me! Jes’ the whole sky overhead...