FAMILIAR FRIENDS.

FAMILIAR FRIENDS.
255.3

There’s Tommy Jones, he lef’ this little town,
I reckon it was thirty years ago.
They tell us that the boy’s got salted down
Five hundred thousand dollars cash or
Some folks say that he’s clear a millionaire,
They take their hats off when he passes by.
But here we’ve got no bows or scrapes to spare.
We knew him when he’s jest about so high.

An’ Billy Smith-they talk a heap of him.
He’s writin’ books they say is suthin’ grand.
One day I know my apple tree he clim
On’ I jest lammed him till he couldn’t stand;
An’ Silas Hopkins-he’s in polities:
They tell us he’ll be President, will Si;
But both of ’em-we’re on to all their tricks-
We knew ’em when they’s jest about so high.

There’s been a scad o’ boys ‘at went away
An’ somewhere’s else they’ve made a regular fuss;
They’re famous people, them outsiders say,
But that don’t make no difference to us.
We reckerlect ’em when they run around
Here barefoot, one suspender all awry:
They’re not much when they strike this stampin’ ground,
We knew ’em when they’s jest about so high.