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Armazindy / The Poems and Prose Sketches of James Whitcomb Riley cover

Armazindy / The Poems and Prose Sketches of James Whitcomb Riley

Chapter 6: WRITIN’ BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS
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About This Book

A mixed collection of poems and prose sketches that depicts small‑town and rural life through vernacular narration, sentimental observation, and comic detail. Longer narrative pieces explore personal loss, domestic struggles, and neighborhood intrigues, while shorter lyrics and children’s verses celebrate play, memory, and everyday tenderness. The voice shifts between musical, folksy dialect and plain colloquial phrasing, producing a rhythmic, conversational tone. Recurrent concerns include household labor, family ties, youthful fancy, and the mingled humor and nostalgia of ordinary community experience.

WRITIN’ BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS

My dear old friends—It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
So’s ever’ last line beats the first,
And ever’ next-un’s better!—
W’y, ever’ fool-thing you putt down
You make so interestin’,
A feller, readin’ of ’em all,
Can’t tell which is the best-un.
It’s all so comfortin’ and good,
’Pears-like I almost hear ye
And git more sociabler, you know,
And hitch my cheer up near ye
And jes smile on ye like the sun
Acrosst the whole per-rairies
In Aprile when the thaw’s begun
And country couples marries.
It’s all so good-old-fashioned like
To talk jes like we’re thinkin’,
Without no hidin’ back o’ fans
And giggle-un and winkin’,
Ner sizin’ how each other’s dressed—
Like some is allus doin’,—
Is Marthy Ellen’s basque be’n turned
Er shore-enough a new-un!”—
Er “ef Steve’s city-friend hain’t jes
‘A leetle kindo’-sorto’”—
Er “wears them-air blame’ eye-glasses
Jes ’cause he hadn’t ort to?”—
And so straight on, dad-libitum,
Tel all of us feels, someway,
Jes like our “comp’ny” wuz the best
When we git up to come ’way!
That’s why I like old friends like you,—
Jes ’cause you’re so abidin’.—
Ef I wuz built to live “fer keeps,”
My principul residin’
Would be amongst the folks ’at kep’
Me allus thinkin’ of ’em,
And sorto’ eechin’ all the time
To tell ’em how I love ’em.—
Sich folks, you know, I jes love so
I wouldn’t live without ’em,
Er couldn’t even drap asleep
But what I dreamp’ about ’em,—
And ef we minded God, I guess
We’d all love one another
Jes like one famb’ly,—me and Pap
And Madaline and Mother.