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Category: Funny Narrative Poems
Classic humorous and funny story poems. Narrative poems are written accounts of connected events in poetry format.
don't go much on religion,
I never ain't had no show;
But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir,
On a handful o' things I know.
I don't pan out on the prophets
And free-will and that sort of thing--
But I be'lieve in God and the angels,
Ever sence one night last spring.
I come into town with some turnips,
And my little Gabe come along--
No four-year-old in the county
Could beat him for pretty and strong--
Peart and chipper and sassy,
Always ready to swear and fight--
And I'd larnt him to chaw terbacker
Jest to keep his milk-teeth white.
The snow come down like a blanket
As I passed by Taggart's store;
I went in for a jug of molasses
And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started--
I heard one little squall,
And hell-to-split over the prairie!
Went team, Little Breeches, and all.
Hell-to-split over the prairie!
I was almost froze with skeer;
But we rousted up some torches,
And sarched for 'em far and near.
At last we struck hosses and wagon,
Snowed under a soft white mound,
Upsot, dead beat, but of little Gabe
No hide nor hair was found.
And hero all hope soured on me
Of my fellow-critter's aid;
I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones,
Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed.
* * * * *
By this, the torches was played out,
And me and Isrul Parr
Went off for some wood to a sheepfold
That he said was somewhar thar.
We found it at last, and a little shed
Where they shut up the lambs at night;
We looked in and seen them huddled thar,
So warm and sleepy and white;
And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped,
As peart as ever you see,
"I want a chaw of terbacker,
And that's what's the matter of me."
How did he git thar? Angels.
He could never have walked in that storm:
They jest scooped down and toted him
To whar it was safe and warm.
And I think that saving a little child,
And fotching him to his own,
Is a derned sight better business
Than loafing around the Throne.
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