Ezra House

[These lines was writ, in ruther high sperits, jest at the close of what's called the Anti Bellum Days, and more to be a-foolin' than anything else,--though they is more er less facts in it. But some of the boys, at the time we was all a-singin' it, fer Ezry's benefit, to the old tune of "The Oak and the Ash and the Bonny Willer Tree," got it struck off in the weekly, without leave er lisence of mine; and so sence they's allus some of 'em left to rigg me about it yit, I might as well claim the thing right here and now, so here goes. I give it jest as it appeared, fixed up and grammatisized consider'ble, as the editer told me he took the liburty of doin', in that sturling old home paper THE ADVANCE--as sound a paper yit to-day and as stanch and abul as you'll find in a hunderd.]

Come listen, good people, while a story I do tell, Of the sad fate of one which I knew so passing well; He enlisted at McCordsville, to battle in the South, And protect his country's union; his name was Ezra House.

He was a young school-teacher, and educated high In regards to Ray's arithmetic, and also Algebra: He give good satisfaction, but at his country's call He dropped his position, his Algebra and all.

"It's oh, I'm going to leave you, kind scholars," he said-- For he wrote a composition the last day and read; And it brought many tears in the eyes of the school, To say nothing of his sweetheart he was going to leave so soon.

"I have many recollections to take with me away, Of the merry transpirations in the school-room so gay; And of all that's past and gone I will never regret I went to serve my country at the first of the outset!"

He was a good penman, and the lines that he wrote On that sad occasion was too fine for me to quote,-- For I was there and heard it, and I ever will recall It brought the happy tears to the eyes of us all.

And when he left, his sweetheart she fainted away, And said she could never forget the sad day When her lover so noble, and gallant and gay, Said "Fare you well, my true love!" and went marching away.

But he hadn't been gone for more than two months, When the sad news come--"he was in a skirmish once, And a cruel Rebel ball had wounded him full sore In the region of the chin, through the canteen he wore."

But his health recruited up, and his wounds they got well, But whilst he was in battle at Bull Run or Malvern Hill, The news come again, so sorrowful to hear-- "A sliver from a bombshell cut off his right ear."

But he stuck to the boys, and it's often he would write, That "he wasn't afraid for his country to fight." But oh, had he returned on a furlough, I believe He would not, to-day, have such cause to grieve.

For in another battle--the name I never heard-- He was guarding the wagons when an accident occurred,-- A comrade who was under the influence of drink, Shot him with a musket through the right cheek, I think.

But his dear life was spared; but it hadn't been for long, Till a cruel Rebel colonel come riding along, And struck him with his sword, as many do suppose, For his cap-rim was cut off, and also his nose.

But Providence, who watches o'er the noble and the brave, Snatched him once more from the jaws of the grave; And just a little while before the close of the war, He sent his picture home to his girl away so far.

And she fell into decline, and she wrote in reply, "She had seen his face again and was ready to die"; And she wanted him to promise, when she was in her tomb, He would only visit that by the light of the moon.

But he never returned at the close of the war, And the boys that got back said he hadn't the heart; But he got a position in a powder-mill, and said He hoped to meet the doom that his country denied.

A PEN-PICTUR' OF A CERTIN FRIVVOLUS OLD MAN

Most ontimely old man yit! 'Pear-like sometimes he jest _tries_ His fool-self, and takes the bitt In his teeth and jest de-fies All perpryties!--Lay and swet Doin' _nothin'_--only jest Sorto' speckillatun on Whare old summertimes is gone, And 'bout things that he loved best When a youngster! Heerd him say _Springtimes_ made him thataway-- Speshully on _Sund'ys_--when Sun shines out and in again, And the lonesome old hens they Git off under the old kern- Bushes, and in deep concern _Talk-like to theyrselvs_, and scratch Kindo' absunt-minded, jest Like theyr thoughts was fur away In some neghbor's gyarden-patch Folks has tended keerfullest! Heerd the old man dwell on these Idys time and time again!-- Heerd him claim that orchurd-trees Bloomin', put the mischief in His old hart sometimes that bad And owdacious that he "_had_ To break loose _some_way," says he, "Ornry as I ust to be!"

Heerd him say one time--when I Was a sorto' standin' by, And the air so still and clear, Heerd the bell fer church clean here!-- Said: "Ef I could climb and set On the old three-cornerd rail Old home-place, nigh Maryette', Swop my soul off, hide and tale!" And-sir! blame ef tear and laugh Didn't ketch him half and half! "Oh!" he says, "to wake and be Bare-foot, in the airly dawn In the pastur'!--thare," says he, "Standin' whare the cow's slep' on The cold, dewy grass that's got _Print_ of her jest steamy hot Fer to warm a feller's heels In a while!--How good it feels! Sund'y!--Country!--Morning!--Hear Nothin' but the _silunce_--see Nothin' but green woods and clear Skies and unwrit poetry By the acre!... Oh!" says he, "What's this voice of mine?--to seek To speak out, and yit _can't_ speak!

"_Think!_--the lazyest of days"-- Takin' his contrairyest leap, He went on,--"git up, er sleep-- Er whilse feedin', watch the haze Dancin' 'crost the wheat,--and keep My pipe goin' laisurely-- Puff and whiff as pleases me,-- Er I'll leave a trail of smoke Through _the house_!--no one'll say '_Throw that nasty thing away!_' 'Pear-like nothin' sacerd's broke, Goin' bare-foot ef I chuse!-- I _have fiddled_;--and dug bait And _went fishin'_;--pitched hoss-shoes-- Whare they couldn't see us from The main road.--And I've _beat_ some. I've set round and had my joke With the thrashers at the barn-- And I've swopped 'em yarn fer yarn!-- Er I've he'pped the childern poke Fer hens'-nests--agged on a match 'Twixt the boys, to watch 'em scratch And paw round and rip and tare, And bust buttons and pull hair To theyr rompin' harts' content-- And me jest a-settin' thare Hatchin' out more devilment!

"What you s'pose now ort to be Done with sich a man?" says he-- "Sich a fool-old-man as me!"