Famous Amos

Long years ago when I was young an’ lived in Gungywamp;

Where ev’ry tater wus a stun an’ ev’ry sprout a stump,

I lived beside a cur’us chap whose forrud name wus Amos,

Who, ever since he’d wagged his tongue hed talked uv bein’ famous.

He said thet he wus born to be a bigger man than us,

An’ thet someday he’d git the world into a mighty fuss;

An’ so he breagged an’ proffersied an’ lazed aroun’ the town,

For fame to back up front uv him to milk an’ strip her down.

The other boys went off to work an’ some uv ‘em grew rich,

While others shone as lit’ry lights an’ senators an’ sich;

An’ every year when they come home they heerd the voice uv Amos,

Complainin’ in his usual way becuz he wussn’t famous.

He said, “I’m smart es Guv’nor Hill or mayor Sam’l Brown,

An I can’t see no reason why I ain’t the same renown;

I uster spell ‘em down in school an’ beat in ev’ry game,

An’ yit they’ve somehow slipped ahead in this here modern game.”

An’ so he waited for the mail an’ telegraph each day,

Supposin’ thet his fame ‘ud come in some sech light’nin’ way;

An’ thus he died, while all his frien’s grew wealthy, fat an’ famous,

An’ soon the village ceased to talk uv fame aspirin’ Amos.

March 15, ‘93

Pub. in B. Courier,

May 6, ‘94