Читать книгу Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason Corner Folks - Charles Felton Pidgin - Страница 15

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Young Widow Mahan had an iligant pig,

In the garden it loved for to wallow and dig;

On potatoes it lived, and on fresh buttermilk,

And its back was as smooth as fine satin or silk.

Now Peter McCarthy, a graceless young scamp,

Who niver would work, such a lazy young tramp,

He laid eye on the pig, as he passed by one day,

And the thafe of the world, he stole it away!

Chorus An iligant pig in every way, Young Widow Mahan used often to say: “Faith, when it's full grown, I'll go to the fair, A mighty foine price I'll get for it there.”

As Mr. Sweeney started to repeat the four lines of the chorus, a soprano voice rose above his own, and, as the last note died away, Maude came in for her share of the applause. Mrs. Crowley was delighted, and showed her appreciation by laughing until she cried.

II. — He drove the poor piggy to Ballyporeen,

And the price of it soon he did spend in poteen,

He got into a fight and was cracked on the head,

Then to jail he was carried and taken for dead.

The constable then for the Father did send,

For he thought that McCarthy was quite near his end;

He confessed to the priest, did this penitent youth,

About the pig stealing he told the whole truth.

Maude improvised a short symphony before the third and last stanza.

III. — Then to young McCarthy, the Father did say:

“Now what will you do at the great Judgment Day?

For you will be there, at the bar you will stan'

The pig as a witness, and Widow Mahan.”

“Faith, what will I do?” young McCarthy did say.

“An' the pig will be there at the great Judgment Day?

Begorre! I'll say to the Widow, 'Asthore,

Take back your old pig, for I want it no more'

“'An iligant pig in ivery way,

Schwate Widow Mahan, plaze take it away.

Faith, now it's full grown, just go to the fair,

A mighty foine price you'll git for it there.'”

“Yes,” said Uncle Ike, “that's what the rich man will say. After cheating the poor, buncoing the credulous, and 'cornering' his fellows, he will say he is willing to give it back, for he has no further use for it. There's a good moral in that song, Mr. Sweeney, and some of our sordid millionaires ought to hear it.”

Quincy looked at his watch. “The hour is late—for the country, but, fortunately, our hotel keeps open all night.”

Quincy carried Uncle Ike up stairs to his room and told him he would come some day and have a good old-fashioned talk with him.

They walked home slowly, Maude admiring the moonlight night and the cool, scented air. When they reached their own room, after seeing Maude to hers, Alice repeated to her husband her conversation with Uncle Ike.

“You must do something to cheer him up, Quincy. Promise me, won't you?”

“Yes, I promise. I hope I won't forget to perform it as I have in one instance.”

“Why—what?”

“Do you remember that young man at the Town Hall—Arthur Scates? He's in consumption. I told him to come to the State House and I would see that he had proper treatment. He hasn't been—or perhaps he has since I've been away, but I will see him to-morrow.”

Alice looked up at him approvingly. “Quincy, I agree with you that the real value of money is found in the good that can be done with it.”