The Village Choir

  

                                          I

We ain’t much on fine music here, as high-grade music goes;

Our concerts they are very plain, no frills or furbelows.

Sometimes we have cantatas, and we have played “Pinafore”,

An’ people said we done it well, the wordin’ an’ the score.

An’ then we have the village band which fills us all with pride,

An’ also fills us, once a week, with martial tunes beside;

But none of them, to our minds, is music to admire,

Compared with Uncle Mylo’s crowd, the Gungy village choir.

                                          II

Now Mylo Bates for forty year has been the choir’s lead,

Has kept the singers up to tone, an’ kept ‘em up to speed.

He’s been the leadin’ bass himself, an’ been director, too;

No matter what the music’s been he’s allus pulled ‘em through.

An’ Uncle Mylo often says that music is his meat,

His bread an’ butter, an’ that he would ruther sing than eat;

An’ oft we wunder what we’d do for music in the shire,

If Uncle Mylo warn’t alive to lead the village choir.

                                          III

On Sunday mornin’s it is fine to hitch the double team

An’ take the fam’ly off to church with spirits all a-teem

With Christian fellership, good will, love an’ all of that.

Perched on a seat beneath a Sunday-go-to-meetin’ hat!

The church bells clangin’ o’er the snow make music all agree,

An’ stir an echo in the hearts of sinners bond or free;

But what will stir us up the most, the thing we’ll most admire,

Will be the special choruses of Mylo’s mornin’ choir.

                                          IV

There’s Uncle Mylo in the loft, his stick within his hand,

All dressed in broadcloth, spick an’ span, a figure to command.

Beside him Cynthy Perkins sits, she is the alto, while

Next to her Renie Holbrook sits, the singer with the smile.

She is soprano, with a voice as clear as any bell,

An’ when she takes a solo part she does it might well.

Then comes Dave Dean whose tenor voice is somethin’ to admire;

This four make up the quartet part of Uncle Mylo’s choir.

                                          V

An’ then a dozen boys an’ girls an’ men an’ women too,

The choicest singers of the town make up the remainin’ crew;

It is a likely lookin’ choir as you’ll find anywhere,

An’ when it comes to music, why, there’s nothin’ to compare

In this or any neighbor town, especially when they

Have got an anthem right down fine upon some special day

Like Christmas, or say Easter morn when pieces just inspire

A fellow’s heart with love for God – an’ for the village choir!

                                          VI

The preachin’s mighty good, of course, as preachin’ otter be;

There’s always be a crowd no doubt, because salvation’s free,

But folks in general admit it is their chief desire

To hear the hymns a’ anthems sung by Mylo Bates’ choir.

An’ Mylo he is unconcerned, a-wavin’ of his wand,

While holdin’ organ, Choir an’ all right under his command;

Now loud, now soft, now fast or slow, now sweet, now full of fire,

An’ endin’ with a crash an’ boom, that well-trained village choir.

                                          VII

Now as for me I think I like the simple hymns the best,

They are so full of sweet accord, they are so full of rest.

I like to hear the quartet sing the first verse, then the choir

Take up the chorus strong enough to raise the very spire.

Old “Coronation’s” good for that, it makes a feller rise

An’ sends his worship through the roof beyond the sun-kissed skies.

“All hail the power of Jesus’ name, let angels prostrate fall;

Bring forth the royal diadem, an’ crown him Lord of all.

                                          VIII

When weary of the world an’ all I like to close my eyes

An’ lean back in my pew an’ touch the edge of paradise;

The voices that are raised in song are angel tunes to me

A-singin’ on the streets of gold beside the jasper sea.

A sense of fitness fills my soul, my earthly wants expire,

As through the holy atmosphere chants Mylo Bates’ choir:

“Blest be the tie that binds, our hearts in Christian love,

The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.”

                                          IX

Sometimes the mixed quartet would sing Miss Carey’s dear old hymn,

Till many hearts were deeply touched, an’ many eyes were dim.

“One sweetly solemn thought, comes to me o’er an’ o’er,

I am nearer home today than ever I have been before.”

An’ then the choir, full an’ strong, with Mylo’s stick a-swing

Would take the comfortin’ refrain with sweet accord an’ sing:

“Nearer my father’s house where the many mansions be,

Nearer the great white throne, nearer the crystal sea!”

                                          X

Ah! Gungawamp is far removed from modern pomp an’ show’

Our young folks who have been away they think she’s pretty slow.

We haven’t much of science here, nor much of art, ‘tis true;

Can’t blame the younger folks who want to get a broader view.

But Gungawamp has many things to make existence sweet;

Her love an’ beauty an’ her health, well they just can’t be beat.

An’ chief amongst her noble gifts, to uplift an’ inspire,

To Sunday mornin’ service led by Mylo Bates’ choir!

Jan. 18, ‘10