Luke says Moo!

Happy Halloween, and a good Tuesday to you. Yes, it’s been a while since I actually wrote anything. Seems I’m lazy. Yup. Well, lazy and busy, and well just not in the mood to write on here. Good thing M still posts from time to time.

Anyway, for a Halloween treat you can go read Dr. 7’s short story. It’s untitled at the time of this posting. It’s kinda fun - especially if you’re a KOL fan.

I’d also like to post for your reading pleasures a poem by the Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley.
When I was younger, Mrs. Locke, a teacher, would recite this poem to the kids in Junior Church (church for kids…taught to a level for kids rather than hearing the sermon sitting out on a pew). I remember her getting excited about this poem and about JWR. I still remember how she would deliver this poem and the excitement of a simpler, gentler time. Our culture has stripped away some endearing portions it once had, but I didn’t live it so I can’t say that things really were as good as they look from here.

JWR was a poet for children and was from just east of Indianapolis. He has captured the essence of the Hoosier dialect from his time and left a legacy that will hopefully continue being passed from one Hoosier generation to the next.

Little Orphant Annie

Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,
An’ when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wuzn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an’ roundabout:
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’ one, an’ all her blood-an’-kin;
An’ wunst, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks wuz there,
She mocked ‘em an’ shocked ‘em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

An’ little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,
You better mind yer parunts, an’ yer teachurs fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!