Up And Down Old Brandywine

Up and down old Brandywine,
    In the days 'at's past and gone -
With a dad-burn hook-and line
    And a saplin' pole - swawn!
        I've had more fun, to the square
        Inch, than ever ANYwhere!
        Heaven to come can't discount MINE
        Up and down old Brandywine!

Hain't no sense in WISHIN' - yit
    Wisht to goodness I COULD jes
"Gee" the blame' world round and git
    Back to that old happiness! -
        Kindo' drive back in the shade
        "The old Covered Bridge" there laid
        'Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak
        My soul over, hub and spoke!

Honest, now! - it hain't no DREAM
    'At I'm wantin', - but THE FAC'S
As they wuz; the same old stream,
    And the same old times, i jacks! -
        Gim me back my bare feet - and
        Stonebruise too! - And scratched and tanned!
        And let hottest dog-days shine
        Up and down old Brandywine!

In and on betwixt the trees
    'Long the banks, pour down yer noon,
Kindo' curdled with the breeze
    And the yallerhammer's tune;
        And the smokin', chokin' dust
        O' the turnpike at its wusst -
        SATURD'YS, say, when it seems
        Road's jes jammed with country teams! -

Whilse the old town, fur away
    'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land,
Dozed-like in the heat o' day
    Peaceful' as a hired hand.
        Jolt the gravel th'ough the floor
        O' the old bridge! - grind and roar
        With yer blame percession-line -
        Up and down old Brandywine!

Souse me and my new straw-hat
    Off the foot-log! - what I care? -
Fist shoved in the crown o' that -
    Like the old Clown ust to wear.
        Wouldn't swop it fer a' old
        Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold! -
        Keep yer KING ef you'll gim me
        Jes the boy I ust to be!

Spill my fishin'-worms! er steal
    My best "goggle-eye!" - but you
Can't lay hands on joys I feel
    Nibblin' like they ust to do!
        So, in memory, to-day
        Same old ripple lips away
        At my "cork" and saggin' line,
        Up and down old Bradywine!

There the logs is, round the hill,
    Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift
Out sunfish from daylight till
    Dewfall - 'fore he'd leave "The Drift"
        And give US a chance - and then
        Kindo' fish back home again,
        Ketchin' 'em jes left and right
        Where WE hadn't got "a bite!"

Er, 'way windin' out and in, -
    Old path th'ough the iurnweeds
And dog-fennel to yer chin -
    Then come suddent, th'ough the reeds
        And cat-tails, smack into where
        Them - air woods - hogs ust to scare
        Us clean 'crosst the County-line,
        Up and down old Brandywine!

But the dim roar o' the dam
    It 'ud coax us furder still
To'rds the old race, slow and ca'm,
    Slidin' on to Huston's mill -
        Where, I'spect, "The Freeport crowd"
        Never WARMED to us er 'lowed
        We wuz quite so overly
        Welcome as we aimed to be.

Still it 'peared like ever'thing -
    Fur away from home as THERE -
Had more RELISH-like, i jing! -
    Fish in stream, er bird in air!
        O them rich old bottom-lands,
        Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands!
        Wortermelons - MASTER-MINE!
        Up and down old Brandywine!

And sich pop-paws! - Lumps o' raw
    Gold and green, - jes oozy th'ough
With ripe yaller - like you've saw
    Custard-pie with no crust to:
        And jes GORGES o' wild plums,
        Till a feller'd suck his thumbs
        Clean up to his elbows! MY! -
        ME SOME MORE ER LEM ME DIE!

Up and down old Brandywine! ...
    Stripe me with pokeberry-juice! -
Flick me with a pizenvine
    And yell "Yip!" and lem me loose!
        - Old now as I then wuz young,
        'F I could sing as I HAVE sung,
        Song 'ud surely ring DEE-VINE
        Up and down old Brandywine!

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

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English

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Kingry's Mill

On old Brandywine - about
Where White's Lots is now laid out,
And the old crick narries down
To the ditch that splits the town,
Kingry's Mill stood. Hardly see
Where the old dam ust to be;
Shallor, long, dry trought o' grass
Where the old race ust to pass!

That's be'n forty years ago -
Forty years o' frost and snow -
Forty years o' shade and shine
Sence them boyhood-days o' mine!
All the old landmarks o' town.
Changed about, er rotted down!
Where's the Tanyard? Where's the Still?
Tell me where's old Kingry's Mill?

Don't seem furder back, to me,
I'll be dogg'd! Than yisterd'y,
Since us fellers, in bare feet
And straw hats, went through the wheat,
Cuttin' 'crost the shortest shoot
Fer that-air old ellum root
Jest above t...

James Whitcomb Riley

Romancin'

I' b'en a-kindo' "musin'," as the feller says, and I'm
About o' the conclusion that they hain't no better time,
When you come to cipher on it, than the times we ust to know
When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto' solum-like and low!

You git my idy, do you? - LITTLE tads, you understand -
Jest a-wishin' thue and thue you that you on'y wuz a MAN. -
Yit here I am, this minit, even sixty, to a day,
And fergittin' all that's in it, wishm' jest the other way!

I hain't no hand to lectur' on the times, er dimonstrate
Whare the trouble is, er hector and domineer with Fate, -
But when I git so flurried, and so pestered-like and blue,
And so rail owdacious worried, let me tell you what I do! -

I jest gee-haw the hosses, and onhook the swingle-tree,
Whare the haze...

James Whitcomb Riley

Down Around The River

Noon-time an' June-time, down around the river!
Have to furse with 'Lizey Ann - but lawzy! I fergive her!
Drives me off the place, an' says 'at all 'at she's a-wishin',
Land o' gracious! time'll come I'll git enough o' fishin'!
Little Dave, a-choppin' wood, never 'pears to notice;
Don't know where she's hid his hat, er keerin' where his coat is, -
Specalatin', more'n like, he haint a-goin' to mind me,
An' guessin' where, say twelve o'clock, a feller'd likely find me!

Noon-time an' June-time, down around the river!
Clean out o' sight o' home, an' skulkin' under kivver
Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, an' swamp-ash an' ellum -
Idies all so jumbled up, you kin hardly tell 'em! -
Tired, you know, but lovin' it, an' smilin' jes' to think 'at
Any sweeter tir...

James Whitcomb Riley

On The Banks O' Deer Crick.

    On the banks o' Deer Crick!    There's the place fer me! -
    Worter slidin' past ye jes as clair as it kin be: -
    See yer shadder in it, and the shadder o' the sky,
    And the shadder o' the buzzard as he goes a-lazein' by;
    Shadder o' the pizen-vines, and shadder o' the trees -
    And I purt'-nigh said the shadder o' the sunshine and the breeze!
    Well - I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea:
    On the banks o' Deer Crick's grand enough fer me!

    On the banks o' Deer Crick - mild er two from town -
    'Long up where the mill-race comes a-loafin' down, -
    Like to git up in there - 'mongst the sycamores -
    And watch the worter at the dam, a-frothin' as she pours:
    Crawl out on some old log, with my hook and line,
    Where the fish...

James Whitcomb Riley

Knee Deep in June

1
Tell you what I like the best -
'Long about knee-deep in June,
'Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vine, some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!

2
Orchard's where I'd ruther be -
Needn't fence it in fer me!
Jes' the whole sky overhead,
And the whole airth underneath -
Sorto' so's a man kin breathe
Like he ort, and kindo' has
Elbow-room to keerlessly
Sprawl out len'thways on the grass
Where the shadders thick and soft
As the kivvers on the bed
Mother fixes in the loft
Allus, when they's company!

3
Jes' a-sorto' lazin' there -
S'lazy, 'at you peeks and peer
Through the wavin' leaves above,
Like a feller 'ats in love
And don't know it, ner don't keer!
Ever'thi...

James Whitcomb Riley

The Old Swimmin'-Hole

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep
Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep,
And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know
Before we could remember anything but the eyes
Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise;
But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle,
And it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole."


"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole!    In the happy days of yore,
When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore,
Oh! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide
That gazed back at me so gay and glorified,
It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress
My shadder smilin' up at me with sich tenderness.
But them days is past and gone, and old...

James Whitcomb Riley