Old Indiany. Intended For A Dinner Of The Indiana Society Of Chicago

Old Indiany, 'course we know      Is first, and best, and most, also,      Of all the States' whole forty-four: -      She's first in ever'thing, that's shore! -      And best in ever'way as yet      Made known to man; and you kin bet      She's most, because she won't confess      She ever was, or will be, less!      And yet, fer all her proud array      Of sons, how many gits away! -      No doubt about her bein' great,      But, fellers, she's a leaky State!      And them that boasts the most about      Her, them's the ones that's dribbled out.      Law! jes' to think of all you boys      'Way over here in Illinoise      A-celebratin', like ye air,      Old Indiany, 'way back there      In the dark ages, so to speak,      A-prayin' for ye once a week      And wonderin' what's a-keepin' you      From comin', like you ort to do.      You're all a-lookin' well, and like      You wasn't "sidin' up the pike,"      As the tramp-shoemaker said      When "he sacked the boss and shed      The blame town, to hunt fer one      Where they didn't work fer fun!"      Lookin' extry well, I'd say,      Your old home so fur away. -      Maybe, though, like the old jour.,      Fun hain't all yer workin' fer.      So you've found a job that pays      Better than in them old days      You was on The Weekly Press,      Heppin' run things, more er less;      Er a-learnin' telegraph-      Operatin', with a half-      Notion of the tinner's trade,      Er the dusty man's that laid      Out designs on marble and      Hacked out little lambs by hand,      And chewed finecut as he wrought,      "Shapin' from his bitter thought"      Some squshed mutterings to say, -      "Yes, hard work, and porer pay!"      Er you'd kind o' thought the far-      Gazin' kuss that owned a car      And took pictures in it, had      Jes' the snap you wanted - bad!      And you even wondered why      He kep' foolin' with his sky-      Light the same on shiny days      As when rainin'. ('T leaked always.)      Wondered what strange things was hid      In there when he shet the door      And smelt like a burnt drug store      Next some orchard-trees, i swan!      With whole roasted apples on!      That's why Ade is, here of late,      Buyin' in the dear old state, -      So's to cut it up in plots      Of both town and country lots.