A Gustatory Achievement

Last Thanksgivin'-dinner we
Et at Granny's house, an' she

Had - ist like she alluz does -
Most an' best pies ever wuz.

Canned black burry-pie an' goose
Burry, squshin'-full o' juice;
An' rozburry - yes, an' plum -
Yes, an' churry-pie - um-yum!

Peach an' punkin, too, you bet.
Lawzy! I kin taste 'em yet!
Yes, an' custard-pie, an' mince!

        *        *        *        *        *

An' - I - ain't - et - no - pie - since!

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

James Whitcomb Riley

The Loehrs And The Hammonds

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Tugg Martin.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Song Of Long Ago.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

To The Quiet Observer

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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Some Scattering Remarks Of Bub's.

Wunst I looked our pepper-box lid
An' cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did,
And cooked 'em on our stove one day
When our hired girl she said I may.

Honey's the goodest thing - Oo-ooh!
And blackberry-pies is goodest, too!
But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin'-wet
Wiv tree-mullasus, is goodest yet!

Miss Maimie she's my Ma's friend, - an'
She's purtiest girl in all the lan'! -
An' sweetest smile an' voice an' face -
An' eyes ist looks like p'serves tas'e'!

I ruther go to the Circus-show;
But, 'cause my parunts told me so,
I ruther go to the Sund'y School,
'Cause there I learn the goldun rule.

Say, Pa, - what is the goldun rule
'At's allus at the Sund'y School?

James Whitcomb Riley

Our Hired Girl

Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
An' she can cook best things to eat!
She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet,
An' nen she salts it all on top
With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so
It's custard pie, first thing you know!
    An' nen she'll say:
"Clear out o' my way!
They's time fer work, an' time fer play! -
    Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run!
    Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,
An' says folks got to walk the chalk
When she's around, er wisht they had,
I play out on our porch an' talk
To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;
An' ...

James Whitcomb Riley

That Christmas Puddin.

Ha weel aw remember that big Christmas puddin,
That puddin mooast famous ov all in a year;
When each lad at th' table mud stuff all he could in,
An ne'er have a word ov refusal to fear.
Ha its raand speckled face, craand wi' sprigs o' green holly
Seem'd sweeatin wi' juices ov currans an plums;
An its fat cheeks made ivvery one laff an feel jolly,
For it seem'd like a meetin ov long parted chums,
That big Christmas pudding, - That rich steamin puddin, -
That scrumptious plum puddin, mi mother had made.

Ther wor father an mother, - awr Hannah an Mary,
Uncle Tom an ont Nancy, an smart cussin Jim;
An Jim's sister Kitty, as sweet as a fairy, -
An Sam wi' his fiddle, - we couldn't spare him.
We'd rooast beef an mutton, a gooise full o' stuffin,
Boil'd turnips an ta...

John Hartley

A Liz Town Humorist

Settin' round the stove, last night,
Down at Wess's store, was me
And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White,
And Doc Bills, and two er three
Fellers o' the Mudsock tribe
No use tryin' to describe!
And says Doc, he says, says he,
"Talkin' 'bout good things to eat,
Ripe mushmillon's hard to beat!"

I chawed on. And Mart he 'lowed
Wortermillon beat the mush.
"Red," he says, "and juicy - Hush!
I'll jes' leave it to the crowd!"
Then a Mudsock chap, says he,
"Punkin's good enough fer me -
Punkin pies, I mean," he says,
Them beats millons! What say, Wess?

I chawed on. And Wess says, "Well,
You jes' fetch that wife of mine
All yer wortermillon-rine,
And she'll bile it down a spell -
In with sorghum, I suppose,
And what else, Lord onl...

James Whitcomb Riley

At Aunty's House

One time, when we'z at Aunty's house -
'Way in the country! - where
They's ist but woods - an' pigs, an' cows -
An' all's out-doors an' air! -
An' orchurd-swing; an' churry-trees -
An' churries in 'em! - Yes, an' these -
Here red-head birds steals all they please,
An' tetch 'em ef you dare! -
W'y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there,
We et out on the porch!

Wite where the cellar-door wuz shut
The table wuz; an' I
Let Aunty set by me an' cut
My vittuls up - an' pie.
'Tuz awful funny! - I could see
The red-heads in the churry-tree;
An' bee-hives, where you got to be
So keerful, goin' by; -
An' "Comp'ny" there an' all! - an' we -
We et out on the porch!

An' I ist et p'surves an' things
'At Ma don't '...

James Whitcomb Riley

Sonnet On Stewed Prunes

Ay ant lak pie-plant pie so wery vell;
Ven ay skol eat ice-cream, my yaws du ache;
Ay ant much stuck on dis har yohnnie-cake
Or crackers yust so dry sum peanut shell.
And ven ay eat dried apples, ay skol svell
Until ay tenk my belt skol nearly break;
And dis har breakfast food, ay tenk, ban fake:
Yim Dumps ban boosting it, so it skol sell.
But ay tal yu, ef yu vant someteng fine,
Someteng so sveet lak wery sveetest honey,
Vith yuice dat taste about lak nice port vine,
Only it ant cost hardly any money, -
Ef yu vant someteng yust lak anyel fude,
Yu try stewed prunes. By yiminy! dey ban gude.

William F. Kirk