---

James Whitcomb Riley - Marthy Ellen
Work rating: Low

They`s nothin` in the name to strike
  A feller more`n common like!
  `Taint liable to git no praise
  Ner nothin` like it nowadays;
  An` yit that name o` her`n is jest
  As purty as the purtiest--
  And more `n that, I`m here to say
  I`ll live a-thinkin` thataway
      And die far Marthy Ellen!

  It may be I was prejudust
  In favor of it from the fust--
  `Cause I kin ricollect jest how
  We met, and hear her mother now
  A-callin` of her down the road--
  And, aggervatin` little toad!--
  I see her now, jes` sort o` half-
  Way disapp`inted, turn and laugh
      And mock her--"Marthy Ellen!"

  Our people never had no fuss,
  And yit they never tuck to us;
  We neighbered back and foreds some;
  Until they see she liked to come
  To our house--and me and her
  Were jest together ever`whur
  And all the time--and when they`d see
  That I liked her and she liked me,
  They`d holler "Marthy Ellen!"

  When we growed up, and they shet down
  On me and her a-runnin` roun`
  Together, and her father said
  He`d never leave her nary red,
  So he`p him, ef she married me,
  And so on--and her mother she
  Jest agged the gyrl, and said she `lowed
  She`d ruther see her in her shroud,
      I _writ_ to Marthy Ellen--

  That is, I kindo` tuck my pen
  In hand, and stated whur and when
  The undersigned would be that night,
  With two good hosses saddled right
  Far lively travelin` in case
  Her folks `ud like to jine the race.
  She sent the same note back, and writ
  "The rose is red!" right under it--
      "Your `n allus, Marthy Ellen."

  That`s all, I reckon--Nothin` more
  To tell but what you`ve heerd afore--
  The same old story, sweeter though
  Far all the trouble, don`t you know.
  Old-fashioned name! and yit it`s jest
  As purty as the purtiest;
  And more `n that, I`m here to say
  I`ll live a-thinking thataway,
      And die far Marthy Ellen!
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.