Explore "Matildy's Beau" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I hain't no great detective, like yer read about, -- the kind / That solves a whole blame murder case by footmarks left behind; / But then, again, on t'other hand, my eyes hain't shut so tight / But I can add up two and two and get the answer right; / So, when prayer-meet'ns, Friday nights, got keepin' awful late, / And, fer an hour or so, I'd hear low voices at the gate -- / And when that gate got saggin' down 'bout ha'f a foot er so -- / I says ter mother: "Ma," says I, "Matildy's got a beau."
We ought ter have expected it -- she's 'most eighteen, yer see; / But, sakes alive! she's always seemed a baby, like, ter me; / And so, a feller after _her_! why, that jest did beat all! / But, t' other Sunday, bless yer soul, he come around ter call; / And when I see him all dressed up as dandy as yer please, / But sort er lookin' 's if he had the shivers in his knees, / I kind er realized it then, yer might say, like a blow -- / Thinks I, "No use! I'm gittin' old; Matildy's got a beau."