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James Whitcomb Riley - Waitin` Fer The Cat To Die
Work rating: Low

Lawzy! don`t I rickollect
  That-`air old swing in the lane!
Right and proper, I expect,
  Old times _can`t_ come back again;
But I want to state, ef they
_Could_ come back, and I could say
What _my_ pick `ud be, i jing!
I`d say, Gimme the old swing
`Nunder the old locus`-trees
On the old place, ef you please!--
Danglin` there with half-shet eye,
Waitin` fer the cat to die!

I`d say, Gimme the old gang
  Of barefooted, hungry, lean,
Ornry boys you want to hang
  When you`re growed up twic`t as mean!
The old gyarden-patch, the old
Truants, and the stuff we stol`d!
The old stompin`-groun`, where we
Wore the grass off, wild and free
As the swoop of the old swing,
Where we ust to climb and cling,
And twist roun`, and fight, and lie--
Waitin` fer the cat to die!

`Pears like I `most allus could
  Swing the highest of the crowd--
Jes sail up there tel I stood
  Downside-up, and screech out loud,--
Ketch my breath, and jes drap back
Fer to let the old swing slack,
Yit my tow-head dippin` still
In the green boughs, and the chill
Up my backbone taperin` down,
With my shadder on the ground`
Slow and slower trailin` by--
Waitin` fer the cat to die!

Now my daughter`s little Jane`s
  Got a kind o` baby-swing
On the porch, so`s when it rains
  She kin play there--little thing!
And I`d limped out t`other day
With my old cheer this-a-way,
Swingin` _her_ and rockin` too,
Thinkin` how _I_ ust to do
At _her_ age, when suddently,
"Hey, Gran`pap!" she says to me,
"Why you rock so slow?" ... Says I,
"Waitin` fer the cat to die!"
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