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James Whitcomb Riley - A Dost O` Blues
Work rating: Low

I` got no patience with blues at all!
    And I ust to kindo talk
  Aginst `em, and claim, `tel along last Fall,
    They was none in the fambly stock;
  But a nephew of mine, from Eelinoy,
    That visited us last year,
  He kindo convinct me differunt
    While he was a-stayin` here.

  Frum ever`-which way that blues is from,
    They`d tackle him ever` ways;
  They`d come to him in the night, and come
    On Sundays, and rainy days;
  They`d tackle him in corn-plantin` time,
    And in harvest, and airly Fall,
  But a dose `t of blues in the wintertime,
    He `lowed, was the worst of all!

  Said all diseases that ever he had--
    The mumps, er the rheumatiz--
  Er ever`-other-day-aigger`s bad
    Purt` nigh as anything is!--
  Er a cyarbuncle, say, on the back of his neck,
    Er a felon on his thumb,--
  But you keep the blues away from him,
    And all o` the rest could come!

  And he`d moan, "They`s nary a leaf below!
    Ner a spear o` grass in sight!
  And the whole wood-pile`s clean under snow!
    And the days is dark as night!
  You can`t go out--ner you can`t stay in--
    Lay down--stand up--ner set!"
  And a tetch o` regular tyfoid-blues
    Would double him jest clean shet!

  I writ his parents a postal-kyard,
    He could stay `tel Spring-time come;
  And Aprile first, as I rickollect,
    Was the day we shipped him home!
  Most o` his relatives, sence then,
    Has either give up, er quit,
  Er jest died off; but I understand
    He`s the same old color yit!
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