Uncle Henry’s Bath

When Uncle Henry came to stay, an’ Uncle Henry did,

There come a change to our house which nearly raised the lid.

‘Cuz Uncle Henry’d lived alone for years up in the brush

An’ wasn’t used to our kind of hustle an’ of rush.

It made him nervous as could be, our careless life an’ gay,

An' said we’d have to answer for our sins at Judgment day;

‘Cuz Uncle Henry wouldn’t laugh, life was a solemn thing,

The world was rotten to the core, an’ sin was on the wing!

Our Uncle Henry’s notions they were funny as could be;

He was the queerest specimen our village ever see;

His speech, his manners an’ his dress belonged to years agone,

An’ so he moped around each day unhappy an’ forlorn.

When Sunday came he wished to take a good, ol’ fashioned scrub,

But he warn’t used to nickel work, an’ didn’t like our tub;

Nor would he use his bedroom with its rugs an’ fillergree,

“I’m ‘fraid I’d git it all mussed up with suds an’ stuff,” says he.

“I’ll take a wash tub to the barn, an’ take my scrub out there,

Where I kin sizzle all I want an’ splash around fur fair.”

An’ so he took his tub an’ pail of water steaming hot,

An’ Uncle Henry an’ his bath was for a time furgot.

Bimeby we heard a wild war-hoop, a clatter an’ a splash,

The barn door swing an’ Uncle Hen made on tremenjus dash;

He waved his arms an’ looked jest like a wild September morn,

An’ dove for all that he was worth into our patch of corn!

A hornets’ nest had tumbled from the rafters overhead,

An’ they had stung him fore an’ aft an’ drove him from the shed.

Some ladies goin’ home from church heard his despairing yelp

An’ stopped, good people that they were, to see if they could help!

When Uncle Henry saw their heads above the tassel’s tops

He gave another yell an’ flew without no waits or stops.

We sent the women folks away an’ got an overcoat

An’ started out for Uncle Hen who’d left for parts remote.

We hunted all around the corn, an’ through the lima beans,

We looked behind the rows of peas, an’ down amongst the greens;

We looked behind the chicken coops, an’ down an unused well,

But where he’d burrowed in his pain no mortal soul could tell.

We hollered, coaxed an’ whistled an’ assured him all was right,

But Uncle Henry for the time seemed buried out of sight.

He was afraid to show himself, or answer to our call,

But by an’ by we saw his head afore the garden wall.

He’d gone beyond the garden patch, an’ like a frightened buck

He’d scaled the ivy-covered wall an’ here he’d run right into luck.

He’d found a barrel over there without an head, an’ he

Was usin’ it as best he could to hide his misery.

We wrapped him in the overcoat, an’ led him back once more,

Not to the barn – O no, becuz he scorned the very door.

Now Uncle Henry when he takes his good, ol’ fashioned scrub,

He takes it in the bathroom in our white an’ shiny tub!

Aug. 12, 1914