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1849–1916

MY DANCIN’ - DAYS IS OVER

James Whitcomb Riley

What is it in old fiddle-chunes‘ at makes me ketch my breath And ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most to death?— Kindo’ like that sweet-sick feelin’, in the long sweep of a swing, The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweet-heart, i jing!—

Yer first picnic — yer first ice-cream — yer first o’ ever'thing ‘ At happened‘ fore yer dancin’ - days wuz over! I never understood it — and I s'pose I never can,— But right in town here, yisterd'y, I heerd a pore blindman

A-fiddlin’ old “Gray Eagle” — And-sir! I jes stopped my load O’ hay and listened at him — yes, and watched the way he “bow'd,” — And back I went, plum forty year’, with boys and girls I knowed And loved, long‘ fore my dancin’ - days wuz over!—

At high noon in yer city,— with yer blame Magnetic-Cars A-hummin’ and a-screetchin’ past — and bands and G. A. R.' s A-marchin’ — and fire-ingines.— All the noise, the whole street through, Wuz lost on me!— I only heerd a whipperwill er two,

It‘ peared-like, kindo’ callin’‘ crost the darkness and the dew, Them nights afore my dancin’ - days wuz over. T'uz Chused'y-night at Wetherell's, er We'nsd' y-night at Strawn's, Er Fourth-o’ - July-night at uther Tomps's house er John's!—

With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old fiddle he Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to the sea — And yit he'd fetched, her home ag'in, so's he could play fer me One't more afore my dancin’ - days wuz over!

The woods‘ at's all ben cut away wuz growin’ same as then; The youngsters all wuz boys ag'in‘ at's now all oldish men; And all the girls‘ at then wuz girls — I saw‘ em, one and all, As plain as then — the middle-sized, the short-and-fat, and tall —

And,‘ peared-like, I danced “Tucker” fer‘ em up and down the wall Jes like afore my dancin’ days wuz over! Yer po-leece they can holler “Say! you, Uncle! drive ahead!— You can n't use all the right-o’ - way!” — fer that wuz what they said!—

But, jes the same,— in spite of all‘ at you call “interprise And prog-gress of you-folks Today,” we're all of fambly-ties — We're all got feelin's fittin’ fer the tears‘ at's in our eyes Er the smiles afore our dancin’ - days is over.

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MY DANCIN’ - DAYS IS OVER · James Whitcomb Riley · Poetry Cove