Uncle Dick

When I went down to Middletown to visit uncle Dick,

I wasn’t taller than his cane and just about as thick.

And how he laughed and giggled at the “skeeter wearin’ pants”,

And said that he would swaller me if he got half a chance.

And when he took me fishing for pickerel one day,

He said he’d have to tie me in or I’d be pulled away.

And that I soon must start to grow or he’d, as sure as fate,

Just fasten me upon his hook and tow me round for bait.

But uncle Dick for all of that was good as he could be,

And I begun to take to him and him to take to me,

Till by and by he was so kind he let me help him work,

And said I must be growing for I didn’t ever shirk.

He let me help him do the chores and bring in all the wood,

And pick up stones and drive the cows and milk and give them food,

And grease the carts and get the eggs and hoe and weed the beds,

And pick up chips and chunks of wood and pile them in sheds,

Then turning grindstones, raking hay and chopping wood and all,

Was jolly fun I had to leave when came the chilly fall.

And when I left he patted me and said I was a brick,

But somehow after that I failed to visit uncle Dick.

Feb. 8, ‘92

Pub. in Boston Courier