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A Pastoral

 Just as the sun was setting
Back of the Western hills
Grandfather stood by the window
Eating the last of his pills.
And Grandmother, by the cupboard, Knitting, heard him say: “I ought to have went to the village To fetch some more pills today.
” Then Grandmother snuffled a teardrop And said.
“It is jest like I suz T’ th’ parson—Grandfather’s liver Ain’t what it used to was: “It’s gittin’ torpid and dormant, It don’t function like of old, And even them pills he swallers Don’t seem no more t’ catch hold; “They used to grab it and shake it And joggle it up and down And turn dear Grandfather yaller Except when they turned him brown; “I remember when we was married His liver was lively and gay, A kickin’ an’ rippin’ an’ givin’ Dear Ezry new pains ev’ry day; “It used to turn clear over backwards An’ palpitate wuss’n a pump An’ give him the janders and yallers An’ bounce around thumpty-thump; “But now it is torpid and dormant And painless and quiet and cold; Ah, me! all’s so peaceful an’ quiet Since Grandfather’s liver ’s grown old! Then Grandmother wiped a new teardrop And sighed: “It is just like I suz T’ th’ parson: Grandfather’s liver Ain’t what it used to was.

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