Uncle Henry's Bath (revised)

 

UNCLE HENRY’S BATH

 

 

                                      I.

When Uncle Henry come 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' ’lowed we’d have to answer for our sins at Jedgment day;

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

The world was rotten to the core – the devil on the wing!

 

                                        II.

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 all day unhappy an’ forlorn.

When Sunday come 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’ll git it all mussed up with suds an’ sech,” says he.

 

                                        III.

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

Where I kin sozzle all I want, an’ splash around fur fair;”

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

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

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

The barn door swung an’ Uncle Hen made one tremenjus dash!

He waved his arms, an’ looked jest like a wild “September Morn,”

An’ dove with all the speed he had into our field of corn!

 

                                        IV.

A hornets nest had tumbled from the rafters overhead,

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

At first he tried to duck beneath the water where he stood;

Alas! It wasn’t deep enough – the hornets found him good.

There warn’t no time for Sunday duds, not e’en a pair of pants,

So Uncle Henry took to flight – it was his only chance!

Down through the wavin’ corn he went, naught on except his mind,

The wide world spread in front of him – the hornets close behind!

 

                                        V.

Some ladies goin’ home from church heard his despairin’ yelp,

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

When Uncle Henry saw their heads above the tasselled tops

He give a louder 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.

There was a trail of hornets from the barn out to the corn

Which give us the direction poor ol’ Uncle Hen had gone.

 

                                        VI.

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

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

We searched 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 swallered out of sight.

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

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

 

                                        VII.

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

Had scaled the vine-clad wall an’ here he’d run right into luck:

He’d found a barrel, minus heads, an’ with sardonic glee,

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; Oh, no, becuz he scorned the very door.

An’ now, when Uncle Henry takes his “good, ol’ fashioned scrub,”

He takes it in the bathroom in our white enameled tub!

 

 

(revised from Aug. 12, 1914 version)