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Updated: June 23, 2025
I heard 'em singin' for hundreds and thousands of years before you were born: "'Thou was not born for death, immortal bird, No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I heard this passing night was heard In ancient days, by Emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same voice that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn, The same that ofttimes hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."
Nothin' but blind an' that's a trifle compared to sickness. What you askin' for? Didn't I eat my breakfast clean up?" "Ye-es, but but afterward you you kicked Bo'sn, an' sayin' that about 'walkin' the street' just a singin'; why, I thought you liked it. I know the folks like to hear you. You do roll out that about the 'briny wave' just grand.
She crooned to herself, as she returned with the knife in her hand, and stuck it in, clear to the heart of the fruit before her. "What's that, Janey?" asked Allie, who had followed Charlie out into the kitchen. "Dat? Dat's a song I done heard an ol' man singin', one day. He had some melons to sell, out on de corner by my mudder's house, an' he kep' a singin' it ober an' ober.
I come over those mountains, young man, and I don't put in the adjectives I applied to them in the process outer respect to your youth. But they'd make a man swear if he'd spent his life psalm singin' before." "We know," said Roldan, grimly. "We've been in them. What did you eat? And did you get lost?" "I ate red ants mor' 'n once, and I usually was lost.
The sun was down now, but it was bright day, and the robins were singin' their heads off, and the air smelt of grass and flowers. I stood at the kitchen window and watched Mitch pump a cup of water for Zueline and hand it to her. And I knew what it meant; for Mitch had told me that he couldn't be near her without a lump comin' into his throat.
She never allowed her singing to interfere with more urgent duties; the singing could always wait, and she never forgot just where she had left it, but would come back and pick up at the exact place she had discarded it. "Sure ain't it great the way ma never drops a stitch in her singin'," her eldest son Teddy had said admiringly one day.
It seemed as if a delay of this kind, had happened on the occasion of which we write; the admiral therefore signalled to let down the nets for a day haul. While this was being done, a vessel was seen to join the fleet from the westward. "That's Singin' Peter," said David Bright to his mate. "I'd know his rig at any distance." "So it is. P'raps he's got letters for us."
There they set, with the wall-paper doin' its cheerfulest, loud as an insult, one of 'em with lots o' white hair, one of 'em singin' a little, some of 'em tryin' to sew or knit some.
"Then why the devil could n't y' hear me singin' out?" Mother thought it must have been because Dan was playing the concertina. "Oh, DAMN his concertina!" Dad squealed, and kicked Joe's little kitten, that was rubbing itself fondly against his leg, clean through the house. Dan found the selection pretty slow so he told Mother and thought he would knock about a bit.
Yes Madam, that was all on John Beck's farm except the flax and the big wooley sheep. Plenty of nice clean flax-cloth suits we all had. "Beck wasn't so good but we had enough to eat, wear, and could have our Saturday afternoon to go to town, and Sunday for church. We sho did have church, large meetin' camp meetin' with lot of singin' an shoutin' and it was fine!
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