The bobolink tried fer t' flirt with the bride in a way thet was sassy an' bold. An' the notes that he took as he shivered an' shook Hed a sound like the jingle of gold. He sat on a briar an' laughed at the choir an' said thet the music was old.
The sexton he came - Mr Spider by name - a citizen hairy and grey. His rope in a steeple, he called the good people That live in the land o' the hay. The ants an' the squgs an' the crickets an' bugs - came out in a mighty array.
Some came down from Barleytown an' the neighbouring city o' Rye. An' the little black people they climbed every steeple An' sat looking up at the sky. They came fer t' see what a wedding might be an' they furnished the cake an, the pie.
I remember he turned to me when he had finished and took one of my small hands and held it in his hard palm and looked at it and then into my face.
'Ah, boy!' he said, 'your way shall lead you far from here, and you shall get learning and wealth and win - victories.'
'What nonsense are you talking, Jed Ferry?' said Uncle Eb. 'O, you all think I'm a fool an' a humbug, 'cos I look it. Why, Eben Holden, if you was what ye looked, ye'd be in the presidential chair. Folks here 'n the valley think o' nuthin' but hard work - most uv 'em, an' I tell ye now this boy ain't a goin' t' be wuth putty on a farm. Look a' them slender hands.
'There was a man come to me the other day an' wanted t' hev a poem 'bout his wife that hed jes' died. I ast him t' tell me all 'bout her.
'"Wall," said he, after he had scratched his head an' thought a minute, "she was a dretful good woman t' work."