MY DANCIN’ - DAYS IS OVER

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.