The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1893-04-23
OFFERINGS OF THE POETS.


OFFERINGS OF THE POETS.
OLE Turnaan's Crfot.
Replyko "Decr Orick' and "Kankdisee."
Two heard about yer Deer crick an crawIin'
Kankakee,
want tell ye Turman's crickis good enough
fer me.
We'd work all week tell Saturday, when bout N
hour by sun.
Pap'd say, LES turn out boys. N go n hev sum
fun
The black birds is a-chirrupin' n ogwood bios
SONS white,
The wind is pushing from the south. n fish is
shore to bite"
We'd dig bait by The stable-'n crib. N ever
But fshin' alters is the best when fishin' worms
The crick is jes' across the field. N am satisfied
The hopper-grasses knowed our walk, fur they
'ud 90 N hide.
The thing Teller knows the best is what Teller
sees;
The hoppers any other day d be jes' thick es
bees.
We know'd the fishin holes es well, the ripple,
drifts IN oil.
N couldn't miss 'em eny more'n horses miss Their
stall.
struck il right;
In day time fish in smaller holes. but in the drifts
at night;
Fished with bobbers on our lines es long es it
wus light,
Then we'd slip our bobbers up SOS We could feel
'em bite.
Ter feel 'em nibble at the bait, it alters tickes
The feelin' nigh about the same es blamed lee
tricity.
Their is nuthin' much in fisnin', but it makes a
Teller feel
Most awfully contented, like the eatin' Nv
meal
like to slip down by myself. when the crick is
on the rise,
IN haul out chuckleheaded cats OF satisfyin'
size,
N see 'em wriggle in the grass. n listen to IN
skreak-
More fun to me n eny thing, onless It's hide n
seek.
Er fish with MINERS early like, way up to
N pull out big ole goggle-eyes, that rainbow up
mypole:
Er watch the turtles or the logs. es eff they he'd
Err the worter bugs a-steerin' 'roun'. like little
black canoes
Err slip erlong the bank ter fin easy restin'
chunck,
| N see the bull-frogs jumpin in. N hear em 20
ker-pIunk;
EFT prop my pole with forked stick, er tie 1t to
limb,
| IN chuck my close right off N take a good ole
fashion swim.
| Their may be other places that fish is middlin'
| thick.
But hits got ter he good'n eff hit beats ole Tur-
mans crick.
| No, never seed yer Deer crick ner yer crawlin
Kankakee
| I'm satisfied with TurInan's, hits good enough
for me.
SULLIVAN, Ind Joseph S. Reed.
Failures and Reward
| When was a country lad a-plowing in the field
| There was Cupid silly watching, with his bow
| The rain fell free, the grasses grew. the corn
would never yield.
And mad Cupid me distracted at my blowing in
the field.
When 1 was a sophomore and thought to gradu-
ate,
| gave ball the craziest curve, 1 scullod win
ming rate;
| But for Xenophon or football was always un-
| So left the Greek unto the Greeks and did not
| graduate.
sought to be learned NJ D.. and studied in q
book:
There was wild game in the forest. there were
fishes In the brook.
| And Walton came a-smiling by with rod, and
| reel, and hook
And stole out and followed him and lost tho
stupid book
But back upon the farm again, aplowing in the
| field.
| My Mary. holding DER her eyes her dimpied
hand shield.
| She watched the corn a-growing and she praised
the golden yield;
| Thus sweet Cupid me rewarded for my blowing
| in the field.
| Benjamin 8. Parker.
NEW CASTLE, Ind.
| BiOOd-Eooe