User: Can you write a poem for me in the style of Various?
Assistant: Sure, here's a poem in the style of Various:
  PIPES O' PAN (Prose and Verse).
OLD-FASHIONED ROSES (English Edition).
_We found him in that Far-away_
_that yet to us seems near--_
_We vagrants of but yesterday_
_when idlest youth was here,--_
_When lightest song and laziest mirth_
_possessed us through and through,_
_And all the dreamy summer-earth_
_seemed drugged with morning dew:_
_When our ambition scarce had shot_
_a stalk or blade indeed:_
_Yours,--choked as in the garden-spot_
_you still deferred to "weed":_
_Mine,--but a pipe half-cleared of pith--_
_as now it flats and whines_
_In sympathetic cadence with_
_a hiccough in the lines._
_Aye, even then--O timely hour!--_
_the High Gods did confer_
_In our behalf:--And, clothed in power,_
_lo, came their Courier--_
_Not winged with flame nor shod with wind,--_
_but ambling down the pike_,
_Horseback, with saddlebags behind,_
_and guise all human-like._
_And it was given us to see,_
_beneath his rustic rind,_
_A native force and mastery_
_of such inspiring kind,_
_That half unconsciously we made_
_obeisance.--Smiling, thus_
_His soul shone from his eyes and laid_
_its glory over us._
_Though, faring still that Far-away_
_that yet to us seems near,_
_His form, through mists of yesterday,_
_fades from the vision here,_
_Forever as he rides, it is_
_in retinue divine,--_
_The hearts of all his time are his,_
_with your hale heart and mine._
Ef you don't know DOC SIFERS I'll
jes argy, here and now,
You've bin a mighty little while
about here, anyhow!
'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods--
er _swum_ 'em, now and then--
And practised in this neighberhood
sence hain't no tellin' when!
In radius o' fifteen mile'd,
all p'ints o' compass round,
No man er woman, chick er child,
er team, on top o' ground,
But knows _him_--yes, and got respects
and likin' fer him, too,
Fer all his so-to-speak dee-fects
o' genius showin' through!
Some claims he's absent-minded; some
has said they wuz afeard
To take his powders when he come
and dosed 'em out, and 'peared
To have his mind on somepin' else--
like County Ditch, er some
New way o' tannin' mussrat-pelts,
er makin' butter come.
He's cur'ous--they hain't no mistake
about it!--but he's got
Enough o' extry brains to make
a _jury_--like as not.
They's no _describin'_ Sifers,--fer,
when all is said and done,
He's jes _hisse'f Doc Sifers_--ner
they hain't no other one!
Doc's allus sociable, polite,
and 'greeable, you'll find--
Pervidin' ef you strike him right
and nothin' on his mind,--
Like in some _hurry_, when they've sent
fer Sifers _quick_, you see,
To 'tend some sawmill-accident,
er picnic jamboree;
Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare-
brained harvest-hand; er in
Some 'tempt o' suicidin'--where
they'd ort to try ag'in!
I've _knowed_ Doc haul up from a trot
and talk a' hour er two
When railly he'd a-ort o' not
And then, I've met him 'long the road,
Ahead,--and yit he never knowed
me when I hollered "_Yate,
Old Saddlebags!_" all hearty-like,
er "_Who you goin' to kill?_"
And he'd say nothin'--only hike
on faster, starin' still!
I'd bin insulted, many a time,
ef I jes wuzn't shore
Doc didn't mean a thing. And I'm
not tetchy any more
Sence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes
a-stopped to jaw with _me_,
They'd bin a little dorter less
in my own fambily!
Times _now_, at home, when Sifers' name
comes up, I jes _let on_,
You know, 'at I think Doc's to _blame_,
the way he's bin and gone
you'd ort to then
Jes hear my wife light into me--
"_ongratefulest o' men!_"
'Mongst _all_ the women--mild er rough,
splendifferous er plain,
Er them _with_ sense, er not enough
to come in out the rain,--
Jes ever' shape and build and style
o' women, fat er slim--
They all like Doc, and got a smile
and pleasant word fer _him_!
Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw
but what'll neigh and try
To sidle up to him, and paw,
and sense him, ear-and-eye:
Then jes a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm,
to pat 'em, er to shove
Along their nose--and they're as ca'm
as any cooin' dove!
And same with _dogs_,--take any breed,
er strain, er pedigree,
Er racial caste 'at can't concede
no use fer you er me,--
They'll putt all predju-dice aside
in _Doc's_ case and go in
Kahoots with him, as satisfied
as he wuz kith-and-kin!
And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets!--
He's got a chicken-hawk,
In kind o' half-cage, where he sets
out in the gyarden-walk,
And got that wild bird trained so tame,
he'll loose him, and he'll fly
Clean to the woods!--Doc calls his name--
and he'll come, by-and-by!
Some says no money down ud buy
that bird o' Doc.--Ner no
Inducement to the _bird_, says I,
And Doc _he_ say 'at _he's_ content--
long as a bird o' prey
Kin 'bide _him_, it's a _compliment_,
and takes it thataway.
But, gittin' back to _docterin'_--all
the sick and in distress,
And old and pore, and weak and small,
and lone and motherless,--
I jes tell _you_ I 'preciate
the man 'at 's got the love
To "go ye forth and ministrate!"
as Scriptur' tells us of.
_Dull_ times, Doc jes _mi_anders round,
in that old rig o' his:
And hain't no tellin' where he's bound
ner guessin' where he is;
He'll drive, they tell, jes thataway
fer maybe six er eight
Days at a stretch; and neighbers say
he's bin clean round the State.
He picked a' old tramp up, one trip,
'bout eighty mile'd from here,
And fetched him home and k-yored his
hip, and kep' him 'bout a year;
And feller said--in all _his_ ja'nts
round this terreschul ball
'At no man wuz a _circumstance_
Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book
to Doc, and vines and moss
He read like writin'--with a look
knowed ever' dot and cross:
Said, stars at night wuz jes as good
's a compass: said, he s'pose
You couldn't lose Doc in the woods
the darkest night that blows!
Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't,
by underbresh and plants,
How fur off _warter_ is,--and 'most
perdict the sort o' chance
You'll have o' findin' _fish_; and how
they're liable to _bite_,
And whether they're a-bitin' now,
er only after night.
And, whilse we're talkin' _fish_,--I mind
they formed a fishin'-crowd
(When folks _could_ fish 'thout gittin' _fined_,
and seinin' wuz allowed!)
O' leadin' citizens, you know,
to go and seine "Old Blue"--
But hadn't no big seine, and so--
w'y, what wuz they to do?...
And Doc he say he thought 'at _he_
could _knit_ a stitch er two--
"Bring the _materials_ to me--
'at's all I'm astin' you!"
And down he sets--six weeks, i jing!
and knits that seine plum done--
Made corks too, brails and ever'thing--
good as a boughten one!
Doc's _public_ sperit--when the sick
's not takin' _all_ his time
And he's got _some_ fer politics--
is simple yit sublime:--
He'll _talk_ his _principles_--and they
air _honest_;--but the sly
Friend strikes him first, election-day,
he'd 'commodate, er die!
And yit, though Doc, as all men knows,
is square straight up and down,
That vote o' his is--well, I s'pose--
the cheapest one in town;--
A fact 'at's sad to verify,
as could be done on oath--
I've voted Doc myse'f--_And I
was criminal fer both!_
You kin corrupt the _ballot-box_--corrupt
Corrupt _some_ neighbers,--but
old Doc's as oncorruptible
As Holy Writ. So putt a pin
right there!--Let _Sifers_ be,
I jucks! he wouldn't vote agin
his own worst inimy!
When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low
with fever, and Doc Glenn
Told Euby Cynth 'ud haf to go--
they sends fer _Sifers_ then!...
Doc sized the case: "She's starved," says he,
The treatment 'at she'll git from _me_
's all she kin drink and eat!"
He orders Euby then to split
some wood, and take and build
A fire in kitchen-stove, and git
a young spring-chicken killed;
And jes whirled in and th'owed his hat
and coat there on the bed,
And warshed his hands and sailed in that
-air kitchen, Euby said,
And biled that chicken-broth, and got
that dinner--all complete
And clean and crisp and good and hot
as mortal ever eat!
And Cynth and Euby both'll say
'at Doc'll git as good
Meals-vittles up, jes any day,
as any _woman_ could!
with striffen o' the lung,
P'tracted Meetin', where she had
jes shouted, prayed and sung
All winter long, through snow and thaw,--
when Sifers come, says he:
"No, M'lissy; don't poke out your raw
and cloven tongue at me!--
"I know, without no symptoms but
them _injarubber-shoes_
You promised me to never putt
a fool-foot in ner use
At purril o' your life!" he said.
"And I won't save you _now_,
Onless--here on your dyin' bed--
you consecrate your vow!"
Without a-claimin' _any creed_,
Doc's rail religious views
Nobody knows--ner got no _need_
o' knowin' whilse he choose
To be heerd not of man, ner raise
no loud, vainglorious prayers
In crowded marts, er public ways,
'Less 'n it _is_ away deep down
in his own heart, at night,
Facin' the storm, when all the town
's a-sleepin' snug and tight--
Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride
and sloth and gilded show,
To some pore sufferer's bedside
o' anguish, don't you know!
Er maybe dead o' _winter_--makes
no odds to _Doc_,--he's got
To face the weather ef it takes
the hide off! 'cause he'll not
_Lie_ out o' goin' and p'tend
he's sick hisse'f--like _some_
'At I could name 'at folks might send
fer and they'd _never_ come!
Like pore Phin Hoover--when he goes
to that last dance o' his!
That Chris'mus when his feet wuz froze--
and Doc saved all they is
Left of 'em--"'Nough," as Phin say now,
"to _track_ me by, and be
A adver_tise_ment, anyhow,
o' what Doc's done fer me!--
"I knowed, ef I'd the spunk,
'At Doc 'ud fix me up _some_ way,
ef nothin' but my _trunk_
Wuz left, he'd fasten _casters_ in,
and have me, spick-and-span,
A-skootin' round the streets ag'in
as spry as any man!"
Doc sees a patient's _got_ to quit--
he'll ease him down serene
As dozin' off to sleep, and yit
not dope him with mor-_pheen_.--
He won't tell _what_--jes 'lows 'at he
has "airn't the right to sing
'O grave, where is thy victery!
O death, where is thy sting!'"
And, mind ye now!--it's not in scoff
and scorn, by long degree,
'At Doc gits things like that-un off:
it's jes his _shority_
And total faith in Life to Come,--
w'y, "from that _Land o' Bliss_,"
He says, "we'll haf to chuckle some,
a-lookin' back at this!"
And, still in p'int, I mind, one _night
o' 'nitiation_ at
Some secert lodge, 'at Doc set right
down on 'em, square and flat,
When they mixed up some Scriptur' and
Lit in 'em with a rep'imand
'at ripped 'em, A to Z!
And onc't--when gineral loafin'-place
wuz old Shoe-Shop--and all
The gang 'ud git in there and brace
their backs ag'inst the wall
And _settle_ questions that had went
onsettled long enough,--
Like "wuz no Heav'n--ner no torment"--
_jes talkin' awful rough!_
and Coonrod Simmes--all three
Ag'inst the Bible and the Light,
and scoutin' Deity.
it takes nobody's word--
_Scriptur'_ er not,--it _'vestigates_
ef sich things could occurred!"
Well, Doc he heerd this,--he'd drapped in
a minute, fer to git
A tore-off heel pegged on agin,--
and, as he stood on it
And stomped and grinned, he says to Ike,
"I s'pose now, purty soon
Some lightnin'-bug, indignant-like,
"No, Ike," says Doc, "this world hain't saw
no brains like yourn and mine
With sense enough to grasp a law
'at takes a brain divine.--
I've bared the thoughts of brains in doubt,
and felt their finest pulse,--
And mortal brains jes won't turn out
omnipotent results!"
And Doc he's got respects to spare
the _rich_ as well as _pore_--
Says he, "I'd turn no _millionaire_
onsheltered from my door."--
Says he, "What's wealth to him in quest
o' _honest_ friends to back
And love him fer _hisse'f_?--not jes
because he's made his jack!"
And childern.--_Childern?_ Lawzy-day!
Doc _worships_ 'em!--You call
Round at his house and _ast_ 'em!--
They're in his _Li_b'ry--in best room--
in kitchen--fur and near,--
In office too, and, I p'sume,
his operatin'-cheer!
You know they's men 'at _bees_ won't sting?--
They's plaguey _few_,--but Doc
He's one o' _them_.--And same, i jing!
with _childern_;--they jes flock
Round Sifers _natchurl_!--in his lap,
and in his pockets, too,
And in his old fur mitts and cap,
and _heart_ as warm and true!
It's cur'ous, too,--'cause Doc
hain't got no childern of his own--
'Ceptin' the ones he's tuk
and brought up, 'at's bin left alone.
And orphans when their father died,
er mother,--and Doc he
Has he'pped their dyin' satisfied.--
"The child shall live with me
"And Winniferd, my wife," he'd say,
and stop right there, and cle'r
His th'oat, and go on thinkin' way
_some_ mother-hearts down here
Can't never feel _their own_ babe's face
a-pressin' 'em, ner make
Their naked breasts a restin'-place
fer any baby's sake.
they's ha'f-a-dozen she'ves
Jam-full o' books--I couldn't tell
_how_ many--count yourse'ves!
_One whole she'f's_ Works on Medicine!
and most the rest's about
And Plutarch's Lives--and life also
o' Dan'el Boone, and this-
jes all the _lives_ they is!
And Doc's got all the _novels_ out,--
And Cooper.--And, I make no doubt,
he's read 'em ever' one!
Onc't, in his office, settin' there,
with crowd o' eight er nine
Old neighbers with the time to spare,
and Doc a-feelin' fine,
A man rid up from Rollins, jes
fer Doc to write him out
Some blame p'scription--done, I guess,
in minute, nigh about.--
And _I_ says, "Doc, you 'pear so spry,
jes write me that recei't
You have fer bein' _happy_ by,--
fer that 'u'd shorely beat
Your _medicine_!" says I.--And quick
as _s'cat!_ Doc turned and writ
And handed me: "Go he'p the sick,
and putt your heart in it."
And then, "A-talkin' furder 'bout
that line o' thought," says he,
"Ef we'll jes do the work cut out
and give' to you and me,
We'll lack no joy, ner appetite,
ner all we'd ort to eat,
And sleep like childern ever' night--
as puore and ca'm and sweet."
Doc _has_ bin 'cused o' _offishness_
and lack o' talkin' free
And extry friendly; but he says,
"I've got," he says, "a natchurl turn
fer talkin' fit to kill.--
The best and hardest thing to learn
is trick o' keepin' still."
Doc _kin_ smoke, and I s'pose he _might_
drink licker--jes fer fun.
He says, "_You_ smoke, _you_ drink all right;
Says, "I _like_ whiskey--'good old rye'--
but like it in its place,
Like that-air warter in your eye,
er nose there on your face."
Doc's bound to have his joke! The day
he got that off on me
I jes had sold a load o' hay
at "Scofield's Livery,"
And tolled Doc in the shed they kep'
the hears't in, where I'd hid
The stuff 'at got me "out o' step,"
as Sifers said it did.
Doc hain't, to say, no "_rollin' stone_,"
and yit he hain't no hand
and scrap o' farmin'-land--
Enough to keep him out the way
when folks is tuk down sick
The suddentest--'most any day
they want him 'special quick.
And yit Doc loves his practice; ner
don't, wilful, want to slight
No call--no matter who--how fur
away--er day er night.--
He loves his work--he loves his friends--
His _lovin'_--facts is--never ends;
he loves jes _ever_'thing....
'Cept--_keepin' books_. He never sets
down no accounts.--He hates,
The worst of all, collectin' debts--
the worst, the more he waits.--
I've knowed him, when at last he _had_
to dun a man, to end
By makin' him a loan--and mad
he hadn't more to lend.
When Pence's Drug Store ust to be
in full blast, they wuz some
Doc's patients got things frekantly
there, charged to him, i gum!--
Doc run a bill there, don't you know,
and allus when he squared,
He never questioned nothin',--so
he had his feelin's spared.
Now sich as that, I hold and claim,
_Perfessional!_--It's jes a shame
'at Doc hisse'f hain't got
No better _business_-sense! That's why
lots 'd respect him more,
And not give him the clean go-by
fer _other_ doctors. Shore!
This-here Doc _Glenn_, fer instance;
er this little jack-leg _Hall_;--
They're _business_--folks respects
'em fer their _business_ more 'n all
They ever knowed, er ever _will_,
'bout _medicine_.--Yit they
Collect their money, k-yore er kill.--
They're _business_, anyway!
You ast Jake Dunn;--he's worked it out
in _figgers_.--He kin show
_Stastistics_ how Doc's airnt about
_three_ fortunes in a row,--
Ever' ten-year' hand-runnin' straight--
'At Jake kin count and 'lucidate
o' Sifers' practice here.
Yit--"Praise the Lord," says Doc,
"we've got our little home!" says he--
"(It's railly _Winniferd's_, but
what she owns, she sheers with me.)
We' got our little gyarden-spot,
and peach- and apple-trees,
And stable, too, and chicken-lot,
and eighteen hive' o' bees."
_You_ call it anything you please,
but it's _witchcraft_--the power
'At Sifers has o' handlin' bees!--
He'll watch 'em by the hour--
Mix right amongst 'em, mad and hot
and swarmin'!--yit they won't
at least I know they _don't_.
With _me_ and bees they's no _p'tense_
o' social-bility--
A dad-burn bee 'u'd climb a fence
to git a whack at _me_!
I s'pose no thing 'at's _got_ a sting
is railly satisfied
It's _sharp_ enough, ontel, i jing!
he's honed it on my hide!
And Doc he's allus had a knack
_inventin'_ things.--Dee-vised
A windlass wound its own se'f back
as it run down: and s'prised
Their new hired girl with _clothes-line_, too,
and _clothes-pins_, all in _one_:
Purt'-nigh all left fer _her_ to do
wuz git her _primpin'_ done!
And onc't, I mind, in airly Spring,
and tappin' sugar-trees,
Doc made a dad-burn little thing
to sharpen _spiles_ with--these-
Here wood'-spouts 'at the peth's punched out,
and driv' in where they bore
The auger-holes. He sharpened 'bout
_a million_ spiles er more!
And Doc's the first man ever swung
a _bucket_ on a tree
Instid o' _troughs_; and first man brung
_grained_ sugar--so's 'at he
Could use it fer his coffee, and
fer cookin', don't you know.--
Folks come clean up from Pleasantland
'fore they'd _believe_ it, though!
And all Doc's stable-doors _on_locks
and locks _theirse'ves_--and gates
The same way;--all rigged up like clocks,
with pulleys, wheels, and weights,--
they'll _open_; and they'll _then_,
All quiet-like, shet up ag'in
like little gentlemen!"
And Doc 'ud made a mighty good
_detective_.--Neighbers all
Will testify to _that_--er _could_,
ef they wuz legal call:
His theories on any crime
is worth your listenin' to.--
And he has hit 'em, many a time,
'long 'fore established true.
At this young druggist Wenfield Pence's
trial fer his life,
On _primy faishy_ evidence
o' pizonin' his wife,
_Doc's_ testimony saved and cle'red
and 'quitted him and freed
Him so 's he never even 'peared
cog-_ni_zant of the deed!
The facts wuz--Sifers testified,--
at inquest he had found
The stummick showed the woman _died_
o' pizon, but had downed
The dos't _herse'f_,--because _amount_
and _cost_ o' drug imployed
No _druggist_ would, on _no_ account,
a-lavished and distroyed!
Doc tracked a blame-don burgler down,
and _nailed_ the scamp, to boot,
But told him ef he'd leave the town
he wouldn't prosecute.
He traced him by a tied-up thumb-print
in fresh putty, where
Doc glazed it. Jes _that's_ how he come
to track him to his lair!
Doc's jes a _leetle_ too inclined,
_some_ thinks, to overlook
The criminal and vicious kind
we'd ort to bring to book
And punish, 'thout no extry show
o' _sympathizin'_, where
_They_ hain't showed none fer _us_, you know.
But he takes issue there:
Doc argies 'at "The Red-eyed Law,"
as _he_ says, "ort to learn
To lay a mighty leenient paw
on deeds o' sich concern
As only the Good Bein' knows
the wherefore of, and spreads
His hands above accused and sows
His mercies on their heads."
Doc even holds 'at _murder_ hain't
no crime we got a right
To _hang_ a man fer--claims it's _taint_
"Hold _sich_ a man responsibul
fer murder," Doc says,--"then,
When _he's_ hung, where's the rope to pull
them _sound-mind_ jurymen?
"It's in a nutshell--_all_ kin see,"
As ap' to err as you er me,
and kill without a cause:
The man most innocent o' sin
Wuz servin' a life-sentence in
the penitentchury."
And Doc's a whole hand at a _fire_!--
directin' how and where
To set your ladders, low er higher,
and what first duties air,--
Like formin' warter-bucket-line;
and best man in the town
To chop holes in old roofs, and mine
defective chimblies down:
Er durin' any public crowd,
mass-meetin', er big day,
Where ladies ortn't be allowed,
as I've heerd Sifers say,--
When they's a suddent rush somewhere,
it's Doc's voice, ca'm and cle'r,
Says, "Fall back, men, and give her air!--
that's all she's faintin' fer."
The sorriest I ever feel
fer Doc is when some show
Er circus comes to town and he'll
not git a chance to go.
'Cause he jes natchurly _de_lights
in circuses--clean down
From tumblers, in their spangled tights,
to trick-mule and Old Clown.
And ever'body _knows_ it, too,
how Doc is, thataway!...
I mind a circus onc't come through--
wuz there myse'f that day.--
Ringmaster cracked his whip, you know,
to start the ridin'--when
In runs Old Clown and hollers "_Whoa!_--
Ladies and gentlemen
"Of this vast audience, I fain
would make in_qui_ry cle'r,
And learn, find out, and ascertain--
_Is Doctor Sifers here?_"
And when some fool-voice bellers down:
"He is! He's settin' in
Full view o' ye!" "_Then_," says the Clown,
"_the circus may begin!_"
Doc's got a _temper_; but, he says,
he's learnt it which is boss,
Yit has to _watch_ it, more er less....
I never seen him cross
But onc't, enough to make him swear;--
milch-cow stepped on his toe,
And Doc ripped out "_I doggies!_"--There's
the only case I know.
Doc says that's what your temper's fer--
to hold back out o' view,
And learn it never to occur
"_You_ lead the way," says Sifers--"git
your _temper_ back in line--
And _furdest_ back the _best_, ef it's
as mean a one as mine!"
He hates contentions--can't abide
a wrangle er dispute
O' any kind; and he 'ull slide
out of a crowd and skoot
Up some back-alley 'fore he'll stand
and listen to a furse
When ary one's got upper-hand
and t' other one's got worse.
Doc says: "I 'spise, when pore and weak
and awk'ard talkers fails,
To see it's them with hardest cheek
and loudest mouth prevails.--
A' all-one-sided quarr'l'll make
me _biased_, mighty near,--
'Cause ginerly the side I take's
the one I never hear."
What 'peals to Doc the most and best
is "seein' folks _agreed_,
And takin' ekal interest
and universal heed
O' ever'body _else's_ words
and idies--same as we
Wuz glad and chirpy as the birds--
jes as we'd _ort_ to be!"
And _paterotic_! Like to git
Doc started, full and fair,
About the war, and why 't 'uz fit,
and what wuz 'complished there;
"And who wuz _wrong_," says Doc, "er
_right_, 't 'uz waste o' blood and tears,
All prophesied in _Black_ and _White_ fer
years and years and years!"
And then he'll likely kind o' tetch
on old John Brown, and dwell
On what _his_ warnin's wuz; and ketch
his breath and cough, and tell
On down to Lincoln's death. And _then_--
well, he jes chokes and quits
With "I must go now, gentlemen!"
and grabs his hat, and _gits_!
Doc's own war-rickord wuzn't won
so much in line o' fight
As line o' work and nussin' done
the wownded, day and night.--
His wuz the hand, through dark and dawn,
'at bound their wownds, and laid
As soft as their own mother's on
their forreds when they prayed....
His wuz the face they saw the first--
all dim, but smilin' bright,
As they come to and knowed the worst,
And-Blue_ where Doc had fixed it where
they'd see it _wavin'_ still,
Out through the open tent-flap there,
er 'cros't the winder-sill.
And some's a-limpin' round here yit--
a-waitin' Last Review,--
'U'd give the pensions 'at they git,
and pawn their crutches, too,
To he'p Doc out, ef he wuz pressed
financial'--same as he
Has _allus_ he'pped them when distressed--
ner never tuk a fee.
Doc never wuz much hand to pay
attention to _p'tence_
And fuss-and-feathers and display
in men o' prominence:
"A railly _great_ man," Sifers 'lows,
"is not the out'ard dressed--
All uniform, salutes and bows,
and swellin' out his chest.
"I _met_ a great man onc't," Doc says,
"and shuk his hand," says he,
"And _he_ come 'bout in _one_, I guess,
He talked so common-like, and brought
his mind so cle'r in view
And simple-like, I purt'-nigh thought,
Yes-_sir_! Doc's got convictions and
old-fashioned kind o' ways
And idies 'bout this glorious Land
o' Freedom; and he'll raise
His hat clean off, no matter where,
jes ever' time he sees
The Stars and Stripes a-floatin' there
and flappin' in the breeze.
And tunes like old "Red, White and Blue"
'll fairly drive him wild,
Played on the brass band, marchin' through
the streets! Jes like a child
I've saw that man, his smile jes set,
all kind o' pale and white,
Bare-headed, and his eyes all wet,
yit dancin' with delight!
And yit, that very man we see
all trimbly, pale and wann,
Give him a case o' _surgery_,
we'll see another man!--
_We_'ll do the trimblin' then, and _we_'ll
git white around the gills--
He'll show us _nerve_ o' nerves, and he 'ull
show us _skill_ o' skills!
_Then_ you could toot your horns and beat
your drums and bang your guns,
And wave your flags and march the street,
and charge, all Freedom's sons!--
And Sifers _then_, I bet my hat,
'u'd never flinch a hair,
But, stiddy-handed, 'tend to that
pore patient layin' there.
And Sifers' _eye_'s as stiddy as
that hand o' his!--He'll shoot
A' old-style rifle, like he has,
and smallest bore, to boot,
With any fancy rifles made
to-day, er expert shot
'At works at shootin' like a _trade_--
and all _some_ of 'em's got!
Let 'em go right out in the _woods_
with Doc, and leave their "traps"
And blame glass-balls and queensware-goods,
and see how Sifers draps
A squirrel out the tallest tree.--
And 'fore he fires he'll say
Jes where he'll hit him--yes, sir-_ee_!
And he's hit thataway!
Let 'em go out with him, i jucks!
with fishin'-pole and gun,--
And ekal chances, fish and ducks,
and take the _rain_, er _sun_,
Jes as it pours, er as it blinds
the eye-sight; _then_, I guess,
'At they'd acknowledge, in their minds,
their disadvantages.
And yit _he'd_ be the last man out
to flop his wings and crow
Insultin'-like, and strut about
above his fallen foe!--
No-_sir_! the hand 'at tuk the wind
out o' their sails 'ud be
The very first they grabbed, and grinned
to feel sich sympathy.
Doc gits off now and then and takes
a huntin'-trip somewhere
'Bout Kankakee, up 'mongst the lakes--
sometimes'll drift round there
In his canoe a week er two;
then paddle clean on back
with fish--all he kin pack,--
And wild ducks--some with feathers on
'em yit, and stuffed with grass.
And neighbers--all knows he's bin _gone_--
comes round and gits a bass--
A great big double-breasted "rock,"
er "black," er maybe _pair_
Half fills a' ordinary crock....
Doc's _fish_'ll give out there
Long 'fore his _ducks_!--But folks'll smile
and blandish him, and make
Him tell and _tell_ things!--all the while
enjoy 'em jes fer sake
O' pleasin' _him_; and then turn in
and la'nch him from the start
A-tellin' all the things ag'in
they railly know by heart.
He's jes a _child_, 's what Sifers is!
And-sir, I'd ruther see
That happy, childish face o' his,
and puore simplicity,
Than any shape er style er plan
o' mortals otherwise--
With perfect faith in God and man
a-shinin' in his eyes.