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Poem
March 27, 1866
Staunton Spectator
Staunton, Virginia
What is this article about?
A nostalgic poem reminiscing about childhood mishaps, including tearing an apron and getting punished by mother, playing in puddles, school embarrassments like sitting with girls, farm chores like churning and grinding, and riding a sore horse to various places.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
Oh! well do I remember,
How sadly I tore
The first checkered apron
That ever I wore.
How I boohed and bellowed,
And flooded with tears,
When my mother gave me
A box on my ears;
Then a big piece of pie for the damage she'd done
To her dearest, her darling, but devil-some son.
Oh, well do I remember,
(They are fresh in mind)
Those little trousers,
All buttoned behind;
How I played in the puddle,
And daubed them in dirt—
How my grandmother shook me,
But promised to buy me a nice sugar toy,
If I'd but remember to be a good boy.
Oh, well I remember
My advent to school—
How I got on the dunce block,
And felt like a fool;
How I pulled out the paper
From Emeline's curls,
For which I was planted
On a seat with the girls!
'Twas punishment fraught with confusion and pain,
But oh, I should like to be put there again.
When older I'd grown,
I had to spread clover
As fast as 'twas mown;
And the finger of fancy
Still points to the churn,
And the hated old grindstone,
I dreaded to turn;
For I churned and I turned till as weak as a cat,
And sweat till as wet as a water-soaked rat.
Oh, well I remember
The old sorrel mare,
That took me to meeting,
To mill and to fair—
I rode her a-plowing
Till tender and sore
Became my poor 't'other,'
And I couldn't ride more;
But oftentimes since I have heavily sighed
To think of the 'horse' I daily must ride.
How sadly I tore
The first checkered apron
That ever I wore.
How I boohed and bellowed,
And flooded with tears,
When my mother gave me
A box on my ears;
Then a big piece of pie for the damage she'd done
To her dearest, her darling, but devil-some son.
Oh, well do I remember,
(They are fresh in mind)
Those little trousers,
All buttoned behind;
How I played in the puddle,
And daubed them in dirt—
How my grandmother shook me,
But promised to buy me a nice sugar toy,
If I'd but remember to be a good boy.
Oh, well I remember
My advent to school—
How I got on the dunce block,
And felt like a fool;
How I pulled out the paper
From Emeline's curls,
For which I was planted
On a seat with the girls!
'Twas punishment fraught with confusion and pain,
But oh, I should like to be put there again.
When older I'd grown,
I had to spread clover
As fast as 'twas mown;
And the finger of fancy
Still points to the churn,
And the hated old grindstone,
I dreaded to turn;
For I churned and I turned till as weak as a cat,
And sweat till as wet as a water-soaked rat.
Oh, well I remember
The old sorrel mare,
That took me to meeting,
To mill and to fair—
I rode her a-plowing
Till tender and sore
Became my poor 't'other,'
And I couldn't ride more;
But oftentimes since I have heavily sighed
To think of the 'horse' I daily must ride.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ballad
What keywords are associated?
Childhood
Memories
Nostalgia
School
Punishment
Farm Work
Horse Riding
Poem Details
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
Oh! Well Do I Remember,
How Sadly I Tore
The First Checkered Apron
That Ever I Wore.
How I Boohed And Bellowed,
And Flooded With Tears,
When My Mother Gave Me
A Box On My Ears;
Oh, Well I Remember
My Advent To School—
How I Got On The Dunce Block,
And Felt Like A Fool;
'Twas Punishment Fraught With Confusion And Pain,
But Oh, I Should Like To Be Put There Again.
Oh, Well I Remember
The Old Sorrel Mare,
That Took Me To Meeting,
To Mill And To Fair—