Not What He Orter Be

He dropped onto his nail kag seat

     One night in Stokes’s store;

His weathered an’ bewhiskered face

     A sad expression bore.

He was a pessermistic soul,

     Ez Gungy men wuz aware;

An' really couldn’t see no good

     In people anywhere.

Herm Stokes, the grocer, was a man

     Good natured to the core;

An' allus hed a word uv cheer

     Fur patruns uv his store,

He asked ol’ Amos ‘bout his health,

     An’ Ame, he says, says he:

“Although my health is purty good,

     ‘Tain’t what it orter be.”

Herm spoke uv pollertics an’ sech,

     Ez cheery ez could be;

Ame made a face an’ sighed an’ said:

     “‘Tain’t what it orter be.”

An’ bizniz in ol’ Gungy town

     He ‘lowed wuz up a tree;

“Although it’s purty fair,” he says,

     “It ain’t what it orter be.”

Herm spoke uv this an’ spoke uv that,

     The church an’ school an’ all;

Ame’s face took on a dismal look

     Much like a suller wall.

“They may be good enough,” he says,

     His nature plain to see;

“But all the same, ain’t none uv ‘em

     Jest what they orter ne.”

Herm Stokes he couldn’t stand no more,

     An’ brought his fist “ker-swat”

Down on the counter good an’ hard –

     Ame jumped like he wuz shot.

“Ame Green,” he says, “You make me tired,

     It kinder seems to me

The world is good enough but you

     Ain’t what you orter be!”

Oct. 14, 1912

Pub. Oct. 27, 1912