I.
Hiram
Plunkett was a cur’us an’ a comical ol’ scad,
Was
the most eccentric codger Gungy village ever had;
Hiram
didn’t b’lieve in papers, nor in human natur’, much,
Didn’t
b’lieve in books or stories, or in sociables an’ such;
Didn’t
b’lieve in much religion ‘cept a kind thet wuz his own,
Though
we never knew he kept it frum the fact he lived alone.
Hiram
didn’t b’lieve in nothin’, near ez anyone could say,
‘Ceptin’
signs, an’ he b’lieved ‘em ev’ry
minute in the day.
II.
Hiram
Plunkitt was a b’liever in a “sign” for everything,
An’
he lived by signs entirely, for to him a sign was King!
So
he steered himself accordin’, never trustin’ uv his fate
To
opposin’ uv his signals, so the villagers relate.
If
he heard a rooster crowin’, an’ he stopped when ha’f way through
There
was somethin’ goin’ to happen to the rooster, that he knew!
If
a rabbit chanced to scamper ‘crost the road a bit ahead,
He
would hev to ketch the rabbit, or go home an’ go to bed.
III.
If
he saw geese flyin’ over, an’ they formed a letter ‘V’,
There
would be a change uv weather ere they settled, argered he.
If
he saw three crows a-flyin’ it was bad luck, even more,
So
he’d hang around impatient till he sighted number four.
If
a watchdog howled at midnight there was sure to be a death
In
the neighborhood immejit ‘less the patient held his breath.
If
he heard a cow a-looin’ when ‘twas dark ez it could be,
‘Twas
a sign that she was lonesome an’ she wanted company.
IV.
In
the house he was persistent, hed a sign fur ev’rything;
Kept
a box uv salt close by him right in readiness to fling.
He
would throw it o’er his shoulder, or would put it in the stove,
Jest
dependin’ what the sign was, an’ to thwart the devil’s move.
He
would never let a caller rock an’ empty chair becuz
It
would bring upon the household all the evils ever wuz;
If
he ever got his shirt on wrong side out he’d leave it so
Till
the time come round to wash it, else his joy would turn to woe.
V.
If
a brick fell off the chimbly an’ he heard it when it fell
He
would grab it up immejit an’ go drop it in the well.
If
he found a bird a-flyin’ in the house he’d hustle out
An'
go huntin’ for a horseshoe which he’d nail somewhere about.
He
had horseshoes o’er the windows, had ‘em over all the doors,
Had
‘em inside, well ez outside, had ‘em on the upper floors;
Fact
his castle was a storehouse loaded full uv charms an’ such,
Just
to rid him uv the witches an’ the devil’s fatal touch.
VI.
Hiram
Plunkett never prospered, though his father left him cash,
An’
a farm without a mortgage, so he could hev cut a dash.
But,
alas! He also left him a belief in signs which took
All
his time frum off his farmin’ an’ reduced his pocketbook.
So
his farm went all to pieces an’ he scarcely dared to move
Lest
a creakin’ uv a floorboard should a fatal omen prove.
So
he died a dismal pauper an’ upon his tombstone gray
Someone
chiseled, “Hiram Plunkett, All signs fail on Judgement Day!”
Dec.
30, 1912
