“Lizzard Crick Poems” - When Ol’ Ike Died

“Lizzard Crick Poems”

When Ol’ Ike Died

 

 

Yeou never heerd erbout thet hoss my Uncle Dick once owned?

A kind o’ cur’us shape’ concern an’ somewhat shackle-boned;

His hair wuz longer’n mos’ hosses, an’ kepper fallin’ out,

An’ both his forrud laigs wuz stiff an’ kind o’ short an’ stout.

His name wuz cur’us ez the rest, jest plain an’ humly Ike,

But ‘ere wuz never borned a hoss more kind an’ noble like;

An' I kin never all fergit how aunt an’ uncle cried,

Me, too, ez well, ‘at summer’s day when ol’ Ike died.

 

When ol’ Ike died it seemed ez if ha’f uv the farm had gone,

An’ Uncle Dick, ‘en doin’ chores ‘peared lonesome an’ forlorn;

An’ all the cows, when goin’ out ‘ud give a mournful moo,

An' turn eroun an’ look tur see if Ike warn’t comin’ too.

But Ike wuz dead, an’ Uncle said ‘at he could never fin’

Ernother hoss tur take his place, so willin’, meek an’ kin’;

He said an honester ol’ hos hed never filled a hide,

An’ farmin warn’t so easy like when ol’ Ike died.

 

Got cast, he did, ‘ith kitchen rope, which woun’ eroun’ his neck,

An’ helt his laigs tight on the groun’ an’ couldn’ raise a speck;

His head wuz pinting down the hill, an’ blood spilt frum his nose,

An' ‘ere he lay, jest tuckered out, his laigs all cut in rows.

We heerd him groanin’ frum the house, but ‘en it wuz too late,

All we could do wuz cut the rope an’ fix him good an’ straight;

An’ he jest rolled his brown eyes up, so noble an’ so wide,

An’ ‘en he stiffened out his laigs, an’ – ol’ Ike died.

 

May 15, ‘94

B. Courier

 

 

Handwritten:

 

                                                          Lizzard Crick Poems

                                                       When Ol’' Ike Died

 

You never heerd erbout thet hoss my Uncle Dick once owned?

Wall, he wuz ruther cur’us shape’ concern an’ somewhat shackle boned;

His hair wuz longer’n must hosses, an’ kepper fallin’ out,

An’ both his forud laigs wuz stiff an’ somewhat short an’ stout.

His name wuz cur’us ez the rest; jes plain an’ humly “Ike”,

But ‘ere wuz never born’d a hoss more kin’ an’ noble like;

An' I kin never quite fergit how aunt an’ uncle cried,

Ez well ez me, ‘at summer’s day when ol’ Ike died.

 

When ol’ Ike died it seemed ez if ha’f uv the farm hed gone,

An’ Uncle Dick, when doin’ chores ’peared lonesome an’ forlorn;

An’ all the cows, when goin’ out ’ud give a mournful “moo,”

An' turn aroun’ tur look an’ see if Ike warn’t comin’ too.

But Ike wuz dead, an’ Uncle said ’at he could never fin’

Ernother hoss tur take his place, so willin’, meek an’ kin’;

He said an honester ol’ hos hed never filled a hide,

An’ farmin’ warn’t so easy like when ol’ Ike died.

 

Got cast, he did, with biggish rope which woun’ eroun’ his neck,

An’ helt his laigs tight on the groun’ an’ couldn’ raise a speck;

His head wuz pinting down the hill, an’ blood spilt frum his nose,

An' ’ere he lay, jes tuckered out, his laigs all cut in rows.

We heerd him groanin’ frum the house, but ’en it wuz too late;

We cut the rope an’ patted him an’ fixed him good an’ straight,

But he jest rolled his brown eyes up, so n[oble an’] so wide,

An’ ’en he stiffened out his l[aigs, an’ – ol’] Ike died.

 

                                                  [lower right corner torn off]