Jest A Thinkin’

Til Green an’ I was married, guess

     More’n forty year ago;

How slick she looked in her big dress!

     ‘An me in homespun; sho!

They don’t hev nothin’ like it now,

     An’ love itself is changin’

Frum what it wuz; they all allow

     There’s tew durn much arrangin’.

But Tilan’ I are jest the same,

     ‘Cept bein’ ol’ an’ gray,

Near-sighted, deef an’ som’ut lame;

     But then, we’ve hed our day

And don’t propose to quibble o’er

     “Lost youth” an’ times called “olden”,

Becuz if autumn days should cease

     Our fruit would ne’er be golden.

But we are happy, Til an’ I,

     A sittin’ round the fire;

An’ t’other she said, “say, Si –“

     Then hitched a little nigher –

“What makes you keep so still tonight,

     A-winkin’ an’ a blinkin’?”

“Excuse me, Til, I ain’tperlite,

     But I wus jes’ a thinkin’.”

“An’ what about?” persisted she,

     “Yeou know yeou promised to –”

“O, what a woman, Til, yeou be!

     ‘Twas nuthin’ ‘ceptin’ yeou.”

Then pinchin’ hard upon my ear,

     She said, her voice a-sinkin’:

“Keep on a thinkin’ Silas dear,

     Jes’ keep right on a-thinkin’.

Feb. 5, ‘91

Pub. in Conn Valley Advertiser