Back to Griggsby’s.
Pap’s got his patent-right, and rich as all creation;
But where’s the peace and comfort that we all had before?
Let’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s station—
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore!
The like of us a-livin’ here! It’s jest a mortal pity
To see us in this great, big house, with carpets on the stairs,
And the pump right in the kitchen! And the city! city! city!
And nothin’ but the city all around us everywheres!
Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple,
And never see a robin, nor a beech or ellum tree!
And right here in ear-shot of at least a thousan’ people,
And none that neighbors with us, or we want to go and see!
Let’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s station—
Back where the latch-string’s a-hangin’ from the door;
And every neighbor round the place is dear as a relation—
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore!
I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin’
A-drivin’ up from Shallow Ford to stay the Sunday through;
And I want to see them hitchin’ at their son-in-law’s and pilin’
Out there at Lizy Ellen’s, like they used to do!
I want to see the piece quilts the Jones girls is makin’,
And I want to pester Laury ’bout their freckled hired hand,
And joke her ’bout the widower she come purt’ nigh a-takin’,
Till her pap got his pension ’lowed in time to save his land.
Let’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s station—
Back where there’s nothin’ aggervatin’ anymore,
Shet away safe in the wood around the old location—
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore!
I want to see Mirandy and help her with her sewin’,
And hear her talk so lovin’ of her man that’s dead and gone
And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he’s growin’,
And smile as I have saw her, ’fore she put her mournin’ on.
And I want to see the Samples on the old lower Eighty—
Where John, our oldest boy, he was took and buried, for
His own sake and Katy’s—and I want to cry with Katy
As she reads all his letters over, writ from the war.
What’s in all this grand life and high situation,
And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin’ at the door—
Let’s go a-visitin’ back to Griggsby’s Station—
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore!