  El Dorado, 1851. I've jest bin down ter Thompson's, boys, 'N' feelin' kind o' blue, I thought I'd look in at "The Ranch," Ter find out what wuz new; When I seen this sign a-hangin' On a shanty by the lake: "Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like yer mother used ter make." I've seen a grizzly show his teeth; I've seen Kentucky Pete Draw out his shooter, 'n' advise A "tenderfoot" ter treat; But nothin' ever tuk me down 'N' made my benders shake, Like that sign about the doughnuts That my mother used ter make. A sort o' mist shut out the ranch; 'N' standin' thar instead, I seen an old white farmhouse, With its doors all painted red. A whiff came through the open door— Wuz I sleepin', or awake? The smell wuz that of doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. The bees wuz hummin' round the porch, Whar honeysuckles grew; A yellow dish of apple-sass Wuz sittin' thar in view; 'N' on the table, by the stove, An old-time "johnny-cake," 'N' a platter full of doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. A patient form I seemed ter see, In tidy dress of black: I almost thought I heard the words, "When will my boy come back?" 'N' then—the old sign creaked; but now It was the boss who spake: "Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like yer mother used ter make." Well, boys, that kind o' broke me up; 'N' ez I've struck pay gravel, I ruther think I'll pack my kit, Vamose the ranch, 'n' travel. I'll make the old folks jubilant; 'N' if I don't mistake, I'll try some o' them doughnuts Like my mother used ter make. Charles Follen Adams. |
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