Thinkin' Back

I've ben thinkin' back, of late, S'prisin'!—And I'm here to state I'm suspicious it's a sign Of age, maybe, or decline Of my faculties,—and yit I'm not feelin' old a bit— Any more than sixty-four Ain't no young man any more! Thinkin' back's a thing 'at grows On a feller, I suppose— Older 'at he gits, i jack, More he keeps a-thinkin' back! Old as old men git to be, Er as middle-aged as me, Folks'll find us, eye and mind Fixed on what we've left behind— Rehabilitatin'-like Them old times we used to hike Out barefooted fer the crick, 'Long 'bout Aprile first—to pick Out some "warmest" place to go In a-swimmin'—Ooh! my-oh! Wonder now we hadn't died! Grate horseradish on my hide Jes' a-thinkin' how cold then That-'ere worter must 'a' ben! Thinkin' back—W'y, goodness me! I kin call their names and see Every little tad I played With, er fought, er was afraid Of, and so made him the best Friend I had of all the rest! Thinkin' back, I even hear Them a-callin', high and clear, Up the crick-banks, where they seem Still hid in there—like a dream— And me still a-pantin' on The green pathway they have gone! Still they hide, by bend er ford— Still they hide—but, thank the Lord, (Thinkin' back, as I have said), I hear laughin' on ahead!