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James Whitcomb Riley - A New Year`s Time At Willards`s
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1
   The Hired Man Talks

There`s old man Willards; an` his wife;
An` Marg`et-- S`repty`s sister--; an`
There`s me-- an` I`m the hired man;
An` Tomps McClure, you better yer life!

Well now, old Willards hain`t so bad,
Considerin` the chance he`s had.
Of course, he`s rich, an` sleeps an` eats
Whenever he`s a mind to: Takes
An` leans back in the Amen-seats
An` thanks the Lord fer all he makes--.
That`s purty much all folks has got
Ag`inst the old man, like as not!
But there`s his woman-- jes the turn
Of them-air two wild girls o` hern--
Marg`et an` S`repty-- allus in
Fer any cuttin`-up concern--
Church festibals, and foolishin`
Round Christmas-trees, an` New Year`s sprees--
Set up to watch the Old Year go
An` New Year come-- sich things as these;
An` turkey-dinners, don`t you know!
S`repty`s younger, an` more gay,
An` purtier, an` finer dressed
Than Marg`et is-- but, lawzy-day!
She hain`t the independentest!
"Take care!" old Willards used to say,
"Take care--! Let Marg`et have her way,
An` S`repty, you go off an` play
On your melodeum--!" But, best
Of all, comes Tomps! An` I`ll be bound,
Ef he hain`t jes the beatin`est
Young chap in all the country round!
Ef you knowed Tomps you`d like him, shore!
They hain`t no man on top o` ground
Walks into my affections more--!
An` all the Settlement`ll say
That Tomps was liked jes thataway
By ever`body, till he tuk
A shine to S`repty Willards--. Then
You`d ort`o see the old man buck
An` h`ist hisse`f, an` paw the dirt,
An` hint that "common workin`-men
That didn`t want their feelin`s hurt
`Ud better hunt fer `comp`ny` where
The folks was pore an` didn`t care--!"
The pine-blank facts is--, the old man,
Last Christmas was a year ago,
Found out some presents Tomps had got
Fer S`repty, an` hit made him hot--
Set down an` tuk his pen in hand
An` writ to Tomps an` told him so
On legal cap, in white an` black,
An` give him jes to understand
"No Christmas-gifts o` `lily-white`
An` bear`s-ile could fix matters right,"
An` wropped `em up an` sent `em back!
Well, S`repty cried an` snuffled round
Consid`able. But Marg`et she
Toed out another sock, an` wound
Her knittin` up, an` drawed the tea,
An` then set on the supper-things,
An` went up in the loft an` dressed--
An` through it all you`d never guessed
What she was up to! An` she brings
Her best hat with her an her shawl,
An` gloves, an` redicule, an` all,
An` injirubbers, an` comes down
An` tells `em she`s a-goin` to town
To he`p the Christmas goin`s-on
Her Church got up. An` go she does--
The best hosswoman ever was!
"An" what`ll We do while you`re gone?"
The old man says, a-tryin` to be
Agreeable. "Oh! You?" says she--,
"You kin jaw S`repty, like you did,
An` slander Tomps!" An` off she rid!

Now, this is all I`m goin` to tell
Of this-here story-- that is, I
Have done my very level best
As fur as this, an` here I "dwell,"
As auctioneers says, winkin` sly:
Hit`s old man Willards tells the rest.

      2
   The Old Man Talks

Adzackly jes one year ago,
This New Year`s day, Tomps comes to me--
In my own house, an` whilse the folks
Was gittin` dinner--, an` he pokes
His nose right in, an` says, says he:
"I got yer note-- an` read it slow!
You don`t like me, ner I don`t you,"
He says--, "we`re even there, you know!
But you`ve said, furder that no gal
Of yourn kin marry me, er shall,
An` I`d best shet off comin`, too!"
An` then he says--, "Well, them`s Your views--;
But havin` talked with S`repty, we
Have both agreed to disagree
With your peculiar notions-- some;
An`, that s the reason, I refuse
To quit a-comin` here, but come--
Not fer to threat, ner raise no skeer
An` spile yer turkey-dinner here--,
But jes fer S`repty`s sake, to sheer
Yer New Year`s. Shall I take a cheer?"

Well, blame-don! Ef I ever see
Sich impidence! I couldn`t say
Not nary word! But Mother she
Sot out a cheer fer Tomps, an` they
Shuk hands an` turnt their back on me.
Then I riz-- mad as mad could be--!
But Marg`et says--, "Now, Pap! You set
Right where you`re settin`--! Don`t you fret!
An` Tomps-- you warm yer feet!" says she,
"An throw yer mitts an` comfert on
The bed there! Where is S`repty gone!
The cabbage is a-scortchin`! Ma,
Stop cryin` there an` stir the slaw!"
Well--! What was Mother cryin` fer--?
I half riz up-- but Marg`et`s chin
Hit squared-- an` I set down ag`in--
I allus was afeard o` her,
I was, by jucks! So there I set,
Betwixt a sinkin`-chill an` sweat,
An` scuffled with my wrath, an` shet
My teeth to mighty tight, you bet!
An` yit, fer all that I could do,
I eeched to jes git up an` whet
The carvin`-knife a rasp er two
On Tomps`s ribs-- an` so would you--!
Fer he had riz an` faced around,
An` stood there, smilin`, as they brung
The turkey in, all stuffed an` browned--
Too sweet fer nose, er tooth, er tongue!
With sniffs o` sage, an` p`r`aps a dash
Of old burnt brandy, steamin`-hot
Mixed kindo` in with apple-mash
An` mince-meat, an` the Lord knows what!
Nobody was a-talkin` then,
To `filiate any awk`ardness--
No noise o` any kind but jes
The rattle o` the dishes when
They`d fetch `em in an` set `em down,
An` fix an` change `em round an` round,
Like women does-- till Mother says--,
"Vittels is ready; Abner, call
Down S`repty-- she`s up-stairs, I guess--."
And Marg`et she says, "Ef you bawl
Like that, she`ll not come down at all!
Besides, we needn`t wait till she
Gits down! Here Temps, set down by me,
An` Pap: say grace...!" Well, there I was--!
What could I do! I drapped my head
Behind my fists an` groaned; an` said--:
"Indulgent Parent! In Thy cause
We bow the head an` bend the knee
An` break the bread, an` pour the wine,
Feelin`--" (The stair-door suddently
Went bang! An` S`repty flounced by me--)
"Feelin`," I says, "this feast is Thine--
This New Year`s feast--" an` rap-rap-rap!
Went Marg`ets case-knife on her plate--
An` next, I heerd a sasser drap--,
Then I looked up, an` strange to state,
There S`repty set in Tomps lap--
An` huggin` him, as shore as fate!
An` Mother kissin` him k-slap!
An` Marg`et-- she chips in to drap
The ruther peert remark to me--:
"That `grace` o` yourn," she says, "won`t `gee`--
This hain`t no `New Year`s feast,`" says she--,
"This is a` Infair-Dinner, Pap!"

An` so it was--! Be`n married fer
Purt` nigh a week--! `Twas Marg`et planned
The whole thing fer `em, through an` through.
I`m rickonciled; an` understand,
I take things jes as they occur--,
Ef Marg`et liked Tomps, Tomps `ud do--!
But I-says-I, a-holt his hand--,
"I`m glad you didn`t marry Her--
`Cause Marg`et`s my guardeen-- yes-sir--!
An` S`repty`s good enough fer you!"
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