<h2>UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE</h2>
<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Up and down old Brandywine,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">In the days 'at's past and gone—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">With a dad-burn hook-and-line<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And a saplin'-pole—i swawn!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">I've had more fun, to the square<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Inch, than ever <i>any</i>where!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Heaven to come can't discount mine<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Haint no sense in <i>wishin'</i>—yit<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Wisht to goodness I <i>could</i> jes<br/></span>
<span class="i0">"Gee" the blame world round and git<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Back to that old happiness!—<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Kindo' drive back in the shade<br/></span>
<span class="i3">"The old Covered Bridge" there laid<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak<br/></span>
<span class="i4">My soul over, hub and spoke!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Honest, now!—it haint no <i>dream</i><br/></span>
<span class="i2">'At I'm wantin',—but <i>the fac's</i><br/></span>
<span class="i0">As they wuz; the same old stream,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And the same old times, i jacks!—<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Gim me back my bare feet—and<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Stonebruise too!—And scratched and tanned!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">And let hottest dog-days shine<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_1004" id="Page_1004"></SPAN></span><br/></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In and on betwixt the trees<br/></span>
<span class="i2">'Long the banks, pour down yer noon,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Kindo' curdled with the breeze<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And the yallerhammer's tune;<br/></span>
<span class="i4">And the smokin', chokin' dust<br/></span>
<span class="i4">O' the turnpike at its wusst—<br/></span>
<span class="i4"><i>Saturd'ys</i>, say, when it seems<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Road's jes jammed with country teams!—<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Whilse the old town, fur away<br/></span>
<span class="i2">'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Dozed-like in the heat o' day<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Peaceful' as a hired hand.<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Jolt the gravel th'ough the floor<br/></span>
<span class="i4">O' the old bridge!—grind and roar<br/></span>
<span class="i4">With yer blame percession-line—<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Souse me and my new straw-hat<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Off the foot-log!—what <i>I</i> care?—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Fist shoved in the crown o' that—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Like the old Clown ust to wear.<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Wouldn't swop it fer a' old<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold!—<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Keep yer <i>King</i> ef you'll gim me<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Jes the boy I ust to be!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Spill my fishin'-worms! er steal<br/></span>
<span class="i2">My best "goggle-eye!"—but you<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Can't lay hands on joys I feel<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Nibblin' like they ust to do!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">So, in memory, to-day<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Same old ripple lips away<br/></span>
<span class="i4">At my cork and saggin' line,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_1005" id="Page_1005"></SPAN></span><br/></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">There the logs is, round the hill,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Out sunfish from daylight till<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Dew-fall—'fore he'd leave "The Drift"<br/></span>
<span class="i4">And give <i>us</i> a chance—and then<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Kindo' fish back home again,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Ketchin' 'em jes left and right<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Where <i>we</i> hadn't got "a bite!"<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Er, 'way windin' out and in,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Old path th'ough the iurnweeds<br/></span>
<span class="i0">And dog-fennel to yer chin—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Then come suddent, th'ough the reeds<br/></span>
<span class="i4">And cat-tails, smack into where<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Us clean 'crosst the County-line,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But the dim roar o' the dam<br/></span>
<span class="i2">It 'ud coax us furder still<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Tords the old race, slow and ca'm,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Slidin' on to Huston's mill—<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Where, I 'spect, "The Freeport crowd"<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Never <i>warmed</i> to us er 'lowed<br/></span>
<span class="i4">We wuz quite so overly<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Welcome as we aimed to be.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Still it peared-like ever'thing—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Fur away from home as <i>there</i>—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Had more <i>relish</i>-like, i jing!—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Fish in stream, er bird in air!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">O them rich old bottom-lands,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Wortermelons—<i>master-mine!</i><br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_1006" id="Page_1006"></SPAN></span><br/></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And sich pop-paws!—Lumps o' raw<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Gold and green,—jes oozy th'ough<br/></span>
<span class="i0">With ripe yaller—like you've saw<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Custard-pie with no crust to:<br/></span>
<span class="i4">And jes <i>gorges</i> o' wild plums,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Till a feller'd suck his thumbs<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Clean up to his elbows! <i>My!</i>—<br/></span>
<span class="i4"><i>Me some more er lem me die!</i><br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Up and down old Brandywine!...<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Stripe me with pokeberry-juice!—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Flick me with a pizenvine<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And yell "<i>Yip!</i>" and lem me loose!<br/></span>
<span class="i4">—Old now as I then wuz young,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">'F I could sing as I <i>have</i> sung,<br/></span>
<span class="i4">Song 'ud surely ring <i>dee-vine</i><br/></span>
<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br/></span>
<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_1007" id="Page_1007"></SPAN></span></div>
</div>
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