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Festival Merchandise

Our Hired Girl

By James Whitcomb Riley

Our hired girl, she’s ‘Lizabuth Ann;

An’ she can cook best things to eat!

She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,

An’ pours in somepin’ ‘at’s good and sweet,

An’ nen she salts it all on top

With cinnamon; an’ nen she’ll stop

An’ stoop an’ slide it, ist as slow,

In th’ old cook-stove, so’s ‘twon’t slop

An’ git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

It’s custard pie, first thing you know!

An’ nen she’ll say:

“Clear out o’ my way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!—

Take yer dough, an’ run, Child; run!

Er I cain’t git no cookin’ done!”

When our hired girl ‘tends like she’s mad,

An’ says folks got to walk the chalk

When she’s around, er wisht they had,

I play out on our porch an’ talk

To th’ Raggedy Man ‘at mows our lawn;

An’ he says “Whew!”  an’ nen leans on

His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes

An’ sniffs all round an’ says,-- “I swawn!

Ef my old nose don’t tell me lies,

It ‘pears like I smell custard-pies!”

An’ nen he’ll  say,-- “ ‘Clear out o’ my way!

They’s time fer work an’ time fer play!

Take yer dough, an run, Child; run!

Er she cain’t git no cookin’ done!’ ”

Wunst our hired girl, when she

Got the supper, an we all et,

An’ it was night, an’ Ma an’ me

An’ Pa went wher’ the “Social” met,--

An’ nen when we come home, an’ see

A light in the kitchen-door, an’ we

Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says “Lan’-

O’-Gracious! who can her beau be?”

An’ I marched in, an’ ‘Lizabuth Ann

Wuz parchin’ corn fer the Raggedy Man!

Better  say

“Clear out o’ the way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!

Take the hint, an’ run, Child; run!

Er we cain’t git no courtin’ done!”