MATILDY'S BEAU

I hai n't no great detective, like yer read about,— the kind

That solves a whole blame murder case by footmarks left behind;

But then, again, on t'other hand, my eyes hai n't shut so tight

But I can add up two and two and get the answer right;

So, when prayer-meet'ns, Friday nights, got keepin’ awful late,

And, fer an hour or so, I'd hear low voices at the gate —

And when that gate got saggin’ down‘ bout ha'f a foot er so —

I says ter mother: “Ma,” says I, “Matildy's got a beau.”

We ought ter have expected it — she's‘ most eighteen, yer see;

But, sakes alive! she's always seemed a baby, like, ter me;

And so, a feller after her! why, that jest did beat all!

But, t’ other Sunday, bless yer soul, he come around ter call;

And when I see him all dressed up as dandy as yer please,

But sort er lookin’‘ s if he had the shivers in his knees,

I kind er realized it then, yer might say, like a blow —

Thinks I, “No use! I'm gittin’ old; Matildy's got a beau.”

Just twenty-four short years gone by — it do'n' t seem five, I vow!—

I fust called on Matildy — that's Matildy's mother now;

I recollect I spent an hour a-tyin’ my cravat,

And I'd sent up ter town and bought a bang-up shiny hat.

And, my! oh, my! them new plaid pants; well, wa'n' t I something grand

When I come up the walk with some fresh posies in my hand?

And did n't I feel like a fool when her young brother, Joe,

Sang out: “Gee crickets! Looky here! Here comes Matildy's beau!”

And now another feller comes up my walk, jest as gay,

And here's Matildy blushin’ red in jest her mother's way;

And when she says she's got ter go an errand to the store,

We know he‘ s waitin’‘ round the bend, jest as I've done afore;

Or, when they're in the parlor and I knock, why, bless yer heart!

I have ter smile ter hear how quick their chairs are shoved apart.

They think us old folks do n't “catch on” a single mite; but, sho!

I reckon they fergit I was Matildy's mother's beau.