Virginia Free Press

Caught on the Jury.

There once lived a man—and I'll not call his name,
Who lived in the country with Polly, his dame;
He was fond of indulging too farly at times,
And whenever he tasted away went the dimes,
For several days he would frolic and spree
Away at the tavern, "a-takin' o' tea;"
But Polly at home was uneasy the while,
Though she knew that the town was not more than a mile;
She knew that if ever he tasted a "drap,"
He soon would be fixed off for taking a nap,
Then he'd trade 'round and "swop," and always get
"bit."
Though he never could "mash-up" the courage to quit.
A week nearly spent then homeward he'd start,
With his crew looking red and a pain at his heart;
But when Polly's would meet him, he'd say, with a cough,
"I was caught on the Jury, and I couldn't get off."
But autumn came 'round, and he gathered his
All up in a heap, and he wanted a "horn:"
And a little wouldn't do, for the neighbors around
Would shuck "nary ear" unless they were found.
Their fathers declared that to drink it was right
On occasions like that, off a corn-shucking night;
"It cooled them in summer, it warmed them when cold.
'Twas good for the children, 'twould strengthen the old."
The old man had swigged it since first he was wed.
And had spent nearly all but the old negro, Ned:
A faithful old servant he always had been—
Though sometimes like "massy" was tempted to sin.
He told Caele Ned to saddle up "Tug,"
The old sorrel mule, and take the big jug,
And go to that tavern where oft he had been,
And bring home a gallon of No. 1 gin:
And if you can find it, now just understand.
You must bring home a gallon of Tennessee brand.
But Ned was afflicted with mossy's disease,
And, thought he, "I'll drink now as much as I please;
I'll see if it's good, and its flavor I'll test,
To prove I'm not cheated in buying the best."
But Neddy kept tasting and guzzling down,
Till "de wurl an' de trees wur all a-tarnin' aroun.'"
Then he thought to himself that 'twas time to be cool,
So he let go all hold, and dropped off of his mule,
He quickly looked 'round him in search of a place
To hide, for th turnpike had dirtied his face:
Behind some thick bushes he endeavored to creep.
To take a short nap before going to sleep.
The night had set in, and 'twas cloudy and dark,
And to strike up a fire he hadn't a spark:
So he rested in silence—he knew not the way
To go through the woods till the light of the day.
Then he picked up his jug, and he found 'twas too light,
And he swore,
"Now, by jingo there sumfin not right!"
His mule had absconded, and left him alone,
But the worst of it all was—his liquor was gone.
He felt then so seared up for what he had done,
That "foot back" he started, and homeward he run;
And when he arrived there his breakfast was o'er,
So he slipped around slyly to find the back-door;
And he thought to himself he'd enjoy the fun
Of telling a "yarn," as old "massy" had done.
His master then entered the kitchen, and cried.
"Just look-a-here, Ned. I am good for your hide!
You black rascal, tell me where have you been
Since I sent you to town for that gallon of gin?"
"Jist hole on a minit!" now cried Uncle Ned—
As he stood there thinking and scratching his head,
"De fac' is, ole massy, I tell you de troof.
If I die de nex' minit here under dis roof,
To buy you some sperits I went to de town,
And when I got dar I war a-steppin' aroun',
And de fus' thing I node I war up in de loft,
Dun kotch on de Jury, an' I couldn' get off!"
VERA.