We'd been a talkin'—me and Ma—

A deal about our Bill.

He wuz well nigh onto thirty,

And gettin' older still.

He wa'n't a lazy lad, you see,

Wuz tall and strong and big,

But to accomplish anything

He must git up and dig.

Next we sot out to talk of Sal;

She wa'n't a hansum lass,

But luvin'er or kinder soul

Ne'er stepped on medder grass.

Sez I, "Good wimmen never grows

Frum idle gals, 'tis true;"

So we decided Sally should

Airn her own livin' too.

And then we talked about the twins,—

About our Joe and Jim.

Joe allus wuz a truant cuss,

And oft I've wallerp'd him

Fer runnin' 'way from skule to watch

The ships cum in at sea.

He allus said, "When I'm a man,

A sailor I will be."

Wuz allus gettin' inter scraps

On politicks at skule;

It wa'n't no use to send 'im,

He broke ever' gol-durned rule.

But Jim wuz sort o' studious;

He keered a heap fer books.

Lazy? I guess! On summer days

He'd find the shady nooks

And lay and read, while me and Bill

Got out and dun the work,

And airned a decent livin' fer

But Sue, she wuz a hansum gal;

Her cheek wuz like the rose;

Her breth wuz sweet as any breeze

The June-time ever blows.

Her eyes wuz dark and full of fire,

Her cheeks wuz churry red,

Her body sort o' willery,

But she'd a haughty head.

But if you wanted her to work

She never could be found;

And, mebby, if you scoured the farm

And all the country round,

You'd find her sittin' in a tree

A-whistlin' o' the tune

She'd heered the medder lark a-singin'

To the skies o' June.

And so one nite I called 'em in,

I think jest arter tea.

Sez I, "We've clothed and edecated you—

But now we're gettin' old, our j'ints

O' roomatism tells,

And it's high time fer you to airn

A livin' fer yoursel's."

Our kids wuz proud as eny

Indiany's ever grown,

And so, afore another month

They left us all alone.

Bill went to Philadelphy town

And hired to a store

As keeps all sorts o' things in lots,

Oh, millions,—mebby more.

Sal went to work fer Deken Dobbs,

And Joe went off to sea;

But Jim turned out an editor—

A mighty man wuz he.

Along kum one o' them air shows

With gals that danced and sang;

And, spite of all her ma could say,

As years went by our Bill he wed

A hansum city wife,

And went to livin' in accord

With high-dad city life.

The children kum till he possessed

O' them a mammoth fold;

And ever'thing he teched jest seemed

To turn to yaller gold.

Sal, wed to Deken Dobbs's son,

Wuz happy, but so poor;

And meny children played around

Her country cabin door.

But then she loved that wuthless man,

And p'raps, when all is told,

She's happier 'n she would 'a' bin

If she had wed fer gold.

The last I heered of rompin' Sue,

I b'lieve it wuz a "hit"

They called it that she made in France,

Great piles o' flowers, roses and sich,

O' yaller, red and white;

And ever' time she danced she fetched

Ten thousan' francs a night!

But Jim—poor Jim! our lazy boy—

He did'nt fare so well;

He's good in larnin', but, somehow,

His paper didn't sell.

But why it didn't I can't tell,

And of'n wonder yit;

Fer when the people brung in stuff

As fer his paper writ

Thet didn't sound jest right to him,

And wuzn't right in looks,

He allus tuk and made it right,

Fer Jim wuz good in books.

He know'd about the president,

Congress and senate, too;

Could tell you all that they hed done

And when he found he couldn't make

Enuff to buy a bike,

He walked off down the railroad track

Toward the Klonindike.

But do you know that wuthless Joe

Turned out the best of all?

When down-trod Cuby needed help,

He answered duty's call,

An' what he taught ol' haughty Spain

I guess she'll not forget;

Fer the way he licked them Spanyards

Wuz a caution, now, you bet!

The people all went wild about

His bravery and fame,

An' now he's got an "Admiral"

Hitched on afore his name.

But nairy youngster would 'a' knowed

What in his brain-pan lay

'F I hadn't said, "Git up and