The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1872-07-19
Deacon Brown.
A DIALKcrIc EXCUSE FOR GOOD MAN.


It's Deacon Brown yer akin about2
lie hahn been round for "a year;
They planted him last kibbage time.
Which is why he int here.
Fur y raps you've observed us gin raj thing
het this lynn under ground
Fur year or two don't make one feel
Pretty much like soshin round.
dis kcrricter. eh9 What old Deac. Brown
Well, I'm ruther shamed 10 say
Tibet ne wasn't much the sort o saint
Sot up by ilarte and Hay.
He never cussed in his nat raj life
/ mention this with consarn-
He didn't know how. though he might knowd
IF he'd "A cared 20 larn.
Bpt il makes il rough fur the chap thet gets
The writin' of his biOg
70 hev ter confess he's singin' ink
Over sich bump on a log,
Who didn't amount 10 shucks in arrow,
who never was out on tear, - .
And for tacklin' neat little game OF draw
Couldn't tell full from a pair;
FUR the Deac. just war n common cuss
o. the most Ornariest kind,
Who never looked out o the window o SIM
And dursn't raise n blind.
Ie've no idee how parvarse he was
I've hearn him remark-this limb
Thet though he war raised in Christian land,
One wife war enough fur him.
His canal boat onc't-it was years ago
When drivers both druy and steerd-
An some o the help got skeered.
The pilot sot in the inginroom,
And felt his nozzle and swore,
But the Deac. spread hisself AT the gang plank
landin the ladies ashore.
Fraps the p eac eff I'D he'd the rearin' of some.
Would apanned OUT better that trip;
Bat. cOnsiderin OF his, brOug htsns up,
h g didn quite lose his grip.
0nfortunet like fur the Deao. an me.
He d careful raisin' TO hum;
an yer cant spect much of n chap, yer know,
Onless he sprouts from slam.
Efhe'd been high toned gambolier.
Or the rough OF mining camp
With a bushel of sin In his kerrlcter.
An touch of sairey Camp.
Or an ipJineer or an lnJun thar
=, Any KIND of rum -histin' lout-
PerHps he'd done some pretty big thing
Fur me 10 be splur gin about
Bat he Jest plugged on in a no count way.
A leadin good squar life.
Till the war KEN on-then he pulled UP stakes,
And said goodbye TO his wife.
I've hearn tell grittier man nor him
In battle never trod.
An he didn't let down in the face of Death,
Although he believed In God.
It's queer how he fout at fredericksburg
The Deac Jest went in wet;
prayin an shootin,' an every time
ietchin his man, you bet.
Yet he wasn't sustained by the soothin' thought
hen n fell-OctODer leventh-
That he'd knock spots out the commandments,
An been special rough on the seventh.
Jest over beyond the turnip patch.
Some twenty holes yer can see.
That air Fl led by oh APPS who went from here
To fight gin General Lee.
They went from here bout pantin' time,
They KEN back when corn was ripe,
An we buried EN- by that walnut tree
All chaps of the Deacon's stripe.
Wen cross over thar TO the old mans grave.
And | guess I'll be gettin then
Yet pardin, stranger. alters unro0f
AT the grave o that sort o men.
I've been gassin' away promiscuslike,
But now | make bold ter say.
IL don't fOller on a mans a sneak
Cause he lives in decent way.
! know some folks reck'n cont airy wise,
An sling their ink quite free,
But they haint got holt the right end on it,
AceOrdin to my idee.
An that's why I've sort o been chippin' in.
eadin the Deacons excuse,
Eur YOU know we all can't be gamblers and
thieves,
An all women needn't be loose.