HE'S jes' a great, big, awk'ard, hulkin' Feller, -- humped, and sort o' sulkin'- Like, and ruther still-appearin' -- Kind-as-ef he wuzn't keerin' Whether school helt out er not -- That's my Henry, to a dot! Allus kind o' liked him -- whether Childern, er growed-up together! Fifteen year' ago and better, 'Fore he ever knowed a letter, Run acrosst the little fool In my Primer-class at school. When the Teacher wuzn't lookin', He'd be th'owin' wads; er crookin' Pins; er sprinklin' pepper, more'n Likely, on the stove; er borin' Gimlet-holes up thue his desk -- Nothin' @3that@1 boy wouldn't resk! But, somehow, as I was goin' On to say, he seemed so knowin', @3Other@1 ways, and cute and cunnin' -- Allus wuz a notion runnin' Thue my giddy, fool-head he Jes' had be'n cut out fer me! Don't go much on @3prophesyin',@1 But last night whilse I wuz fryin' Supper, with that man a-pitchin' Little Marthy round the kitchen, Think-says-I, "Them baby's eyes Is my Henry's, jes' p'cise!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESSAY ON STONE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE TWO OLD BACHELORS by EDWARD LEAR THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 97. A SUPERSCRIPTION by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI NOCTURNE IN A DESERTED BRICKYARD by CARL SANDBURG FANCY, FR. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |