Thank you Tim, what a delightful story. I got a chuckle out of it, but also realized how true it is. Bruce > ------------------------------ > > Message: 3 > Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2007 01:44:21 -0500 > From: Tim Stowell <tstowell@chattanooga.net> > Subject: [NYCHENAN] Jest 'Fore Christmas > To: nychenan@rootsweb.com, nymadiso@rootsweb.com, > nycortla@rootsweb.com > Message-ID: <200712130645.lBD6iVKT030383@mail.rootsweb.com> > Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed > > JEST 'FORE CHRISTMAS > > Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, > Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill! > Mighty glad I ain't a girl---ruther be a boy, > Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy! > Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lake--- > Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache! > Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain't no flies on me, > But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! > > Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him in the cat; > First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is at! > Got a clipper sled, an' when us kids goes out to slide, > 'Long comes the grocery cart, an' we all hook a ride! > But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' cross, > He reaches at us with his whip, an' larrups up his hoss, > An' then I laff and holler, "Oh, ye never teched me!" > But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! > > Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man, > I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan, > As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's Isle, > Where every prospeck pleases, an' only man is vile! > But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West show, > Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she'd know > That Buff'lo Bill an' cow-boys is good enough for me! > Excep' jest 'fore Christmas, when I'm good as I kin be! > > And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemnly an' still, > His eyes they seem a-sayin': "What's the matter, little Bill?" > The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's become > Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum! > But I am so perlite an' 'tend so earnestly to biz, > That mother says to father: "How improved our Willie is!" > But father, havin' been a boy hisself, suspicions me > When, just 'fore Christmas, I'm as good as I kin be! > > For Christmas, with its lots an' lots of candies, cakes, and toys, > Was made, they say, for proper kids an' not for naughty boys; > So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair, an' mind yer p's and q's, > An' don't bust out yer pantaloons, and don't wear out yer shoes; > Say "Yessum" to the ladies, an' "Yessur" to the men, > An' when they's company, don't pass yer plate for pie again; > But, thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that tree, > Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be! > > - Eugene Field > Tim Stowell > Chattanooga, TN