Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1872-04-26
Miscellaneous Reading.
sage DEACON BROWN. ue- d
A Dinlectic Excuse for a Good Man.

- GtAf \ = 3 l---eE - ~
Dlaieetio Tic = Excuse : use, for " GOOD Man.
ny JOHN PAuL.
cIr's Deacon Brown yer aslSin' abouts ia
o. lie hain't been round for yehIi
They planted him last klbbage time'
Which is why he isn't here. ,.,-.,., .,,.,
Fur p'raps ye'ye observed as gihr@l thmg
Thet this lyin under ground
Fur wear or two don't make one feel
Pretty much like sloshn' round
His kerricter, chr What, old Deac. Browni
Well, I'm ruther 'shamed to say
Tibet he want much the sort o. saint
Sot up by Harte and Hay.
lie never cussed in his nat'ral life
mention this with consarn- .t.r
lie didn't know how, though he might knowd
Ef he'd cared TO larn. aE Z
But it makes It rough fur the chap thct gets 5
The writn' OF his biog taaN
To hev ter confess he's singin' ink
Over sich bump on log, 10y
Who didn't amount to shuCks In arrow, th
Who never was out on a tear, 4eE y
And for tackin' n neat little game OF VI draw
Couldn't tell full from pair. 81 -a
Fur the Deac just war n common cuss
o. the most ornarlest kind,
Who never looked out o the winder o. sin,
And dursn't raise a blind.
Ye've no idee how parvarse he was,
I've hcarn him remark-this limb
Thet though he war raised IN Christian land,
One wife war enough fur him.
His canal boat onct-it was wears ago,
When drivers both druv and steered-- t
Run agin the bank jest above Penn Yam,
An some o. the help got skeered.
The pilot sot in the ingin-room,
And helt his nozzle an swore,
But the Deac. spread hisseh at the gang-plank
handin' the ladies ashore.
P'raps the Deac. ef he'd he'd the rearn O. some,
Would a panned out better that trips -
But considerin' of his broughtens up,
He didn't quite lose his grip. .i 1
Onfortunet-like fur the Deac. an me,
He'd careful raisin' to hum;
An yer can't 'spect much of a chap, yer know,
70. Onless he sprouts from slum. .'.- .
Ef he'd been high-toned gambolier,
Or the rough of mining camp,
With bushel of sin in his kerricter,
.. Arr Il touch of Sairey Camp, -
Or an injineer or an injin thar
Any kind Of Il rum-histin' lout-
pcraps he'd done some pretty big thing
Fur me ter be splurgin' about
But he Jest plugged on in no count way,
- A leadin' good squar life,
Till the war KEN on-then ne pulled up stakes,
An said good by ter 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, tt q
A pray'n an shootn, an every time
fetchin' his man, you bet.
Yet he want sustained by the soOthin' thought,
That he'd knockd spots out the commandments,
An been special rough on the seventh.
Jest over beyond the turnip patch,
6 Some twenty holes yer kin see,
Tibet air filed by chaps who went from hero
To fight gin General Lee
They went from here bout plantin' time,
They KEN back when corn was ripe,
An we buried 'em by that walnut tree
d. All chaps of the Deacon's stripe.
Wen cross over thar to the old mans grave,
And guess III be gettin then
Yer pardin, stranger, alters unroof
At the grave o. that sort o. men.
I've been gassin' away promiscus-like
Butnow make bold ter say,
1t don't foDer on q mans sneak
Cause he lives in decent way.
know some folks reck'n contrary wise,
~ An sling their ink quite free,
But they hain't got holt the right end on it,
Accordn to my idee.
An thets why I've sort o. been chippin' in,
A pleadin' the Deacons excuse.
Fur you know we all can't he gamblers and thieves
An all women needn't be loose b.
fr. -NeU York Times.