MARTHY ELLEN.

They's nothin’ in the name to strike

A feller more'n common like!

‘ Taint liable to git no praise

Ner nothin’ like it nowadays;

An’ yit that name o’ her'n is jest

As purty as the purtiest —

And more‘ n that, I'm here to say

I'll live a-thinkin’ thataway

And die far Marthy Ellen!

It may be I was prejudust

In favor of it from the fust —

‘ Cause I kin ricollect jest how

We met, and hear her mother now

A-callin’ of her down the road —

And, aggervatin’ little toad!—

I see her now, jes’ sort o’ half-

Way disapp'inted, turn and laugh

And mock her — “Marthy Ellen!”

Our people never had no fuss,

And yit they never tuck to us;

We neighbered back and foreds some;

Until they see she liked to come

To our house — and me and her

Were jest together ever'whur

And all the time — and when they'd see

That I liked her and she liked me,

They'd holler “Marthy Ellen!”

When we growed up, and they shet down

On me and her a-runnin’ roun’

Together, and her father said

He'd never leave her nary red,

So he'p him, ef she married me,

And so on — and her mother she

Jest agged the gyrl, and said she‘ lowed

She'd ruther see her in her shroud,

I writ to Marthy Ellen —

That is, I kindo’ tuck my pen

In hand, and stated whur and when

The undersigned would be that night,

With two good hosses saddled right

Far lively travelin’ in case

Her folks‘ ud like to jine the race.

She sent the same note back, and writ

“The rose is red!” right under it —

“Your‘ n allus, Marthy Ellen.”

That's all, I reckon — Nothin’ more

To tell but what you've heerd afore —

The same old story, sweeter though

Far all the trouble, do n't you know.

Old-fashioned name! and yit it's jest

As purty as the purtiest;

And more‘ n that, I'm here to say

I'll live a-thinking thataway,

And die far Marthy Ellen!