Pap had one old-fashioned sayin’ That I'll never quite fergit — And they's seven growed-up childern Of us rickollects it yit!—
Settin’ round the dinner-table, Talkin’‘ bout our friends, perhaps, Er abusin’ of our neghbors, I kin hear them words o’ Pap's —
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!” Pap he'd never argy with us, Ner cut any subject short Whilse we all kep’ clear o’ gossip,
And wuz actin’ as we ort: But ef we'd git out o’ order — Like sometimes a fambly is,— Faultin’ folks, er one another,
Then we'd hear that voice o’ his — “Shet up, and eat yer vittels!” Wuz no hand hisse'f at talkin’ — Never had n't much to say,—
Only, as I said, pervidin’ When we'd rile him thataway: Then he'd allus lose his temper Spite o’ fate, and jerk his head
And slam down his caseknife vicious’ Whilse he glared around and said — “Shet up, and eat yer vittels!” Mind last time‘ at Pap was ailin’
With a misery in his side, And had hobbled in the kitchen — Jest the day before he died,— Laury Jane she ups and tells him,
“Pap, you're pale as pale kin be — Hai n't ye‘ feard them-air cowcumbers Hai n't good fer ye?” And says he, “Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
Well! I've saw a-many a sorrow,— Forty year’, through thick and thin; I've got best,— and I've got wors'ted, Time and time and time ag'in!—
But I've met a-many a trouble That I hai n't run onto twice, Haltin’ - like and thinkin’ over Them-air words o’ Pap's advice:
“Shet up, and eat yer vittels!”
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