SOMETIMES my Conscience says, say he, "Don't you know me?" And I, says I, skeered through and through, "Of course I do. You air a nice chap ever' way, I'm here to say! You make me cry -- you make me pray, And all them good things thataway -- That is, at @3night@1. Where do you stay Durin' the day?" And then my Conscience says, onc't more, "You know me -- shore?" "Oh, yes," says I, a-trimblin' faint, "You're jes' a saint! Your ways is all so holy-right, I love you better ever' night You come around, -- tel' plum daylight, When you air out o' sight!" And then my Conscience sort o' grits His teeth, and spits On his two hands and grabs, of course, Some old remorse, And beats me with the big butt-end O' @3that@1 thing -- tel my clostest friend 'Ud hardly know me. "Now," says he, "Be keerful as you'd orto be And @3allus@1 think o' me!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WOMEN WITH FABLED HAIR by MADELINE DEFREES SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PHANTOM-LOVER [OR, WOOER] by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE RAZOR-SELLER by JOHN WOLCOTT BUONAPARTE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DISAPPOINTED by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |