Elspeth’s Daughter-in-law

I DON’T know what spell came over us, That’s over father and me, But two silly things we must have been To let the boy have his way. But Sammie was all the boy we had, An’ he grew so big an’ tall— We had no girl, I didn’t mind that, For I don’t care for girls at all. An’ that great fellow, six feet I know, An’ an arm I couldn’t span, Was handsome—I may as well own up That I like a handsome man. Now father declares the trouble came To fill our life to the brim By reason of Sam’s good looks—he thinks The boy should look just like him. Not that I’d hurt his pride for the world, But I’d feel most awful bad To see father’s features one by one A-showing up on our lad. Sam got to college all right enough, When he came home I declare He told me about wonderful things He’d had to learn while up there. He showed me gloves all padded out, The cap an’ the scanty trews, An’ the mask of wire that hid his face, The day that they beat the Blues. I had my doubts about Sammie too, For fear ’twould spoil the lad, An’ widow Dobbs kept throwing out hints That he was going to the bad. She’s awful quick with her nods and winks, An’ a body can’t forget, Why, she made me do a thing one day That I’m mortal shamed of yet. She’d been telling up a big long yarn Of boy’s deceit, an’ of things That mothers discover unawares— An’ get just desperate stings. It vexed me so much, that up I went An’ opened our Sammie’s trunk, Though if he had come an’ caught me there— Well, I know I should have sunk. I searched through all that big pile of stuff, An’ I tried each little key, But there was nothing in that big trunk That his mother daren’t see. Then I went over to widow Dobbs, An’ we had a little spat, My boy was hiding nothing from me, Thank God! for a boy like that. But I must tell you about his wife; You see we had always planned That he’d marry Eliza Jane Jones— She owns a good bit of land. She isn’t good looking, I’ll own up, But in all your mortal life, You never saw a better Nor thriftier farmer’s wife. ’Twas a shock, I tell you, when he wrote (Father said I was to blame) That he’d bring a bride from the city— Daisy, he said, was her name. Well, I’ll never forget how I felt When I first saw Sammie’s wife, I shook hands—I couldn’t have kissed her Had it been to save my life. You see, I’d a thought of the work, Plenty to do I can tell, An’ I thought when Sammie’s wife came home That I’d try a shirking spell. An’ when I saw her, my heart was full Of vexation an’ surprise, I thought of hearty Eliza Jane Jones Till the tears came in my eyes. She looked like a picture standing there, A-smoothing her soft hair down, It made me feel hateful, just to know I was homely, old, and brown. It vexed me just to look at her hands, So dimpled, an’ soft, an’ white— I took Mr. Sammie to my room An’ told him it wasn’t right. “She is no worker,” I said to him, “An’ drones are bad in a hive,” He laughed, “Oh we are a sleepy lot, Daisy will keep us alive!” “I know how ’twill be,” I said to him, She’ll want new things every day In machinery, to do up the work In the quick new-fangled way. “But I won’t have it,” I said to him, “I have my way of going, An’ it’s girls that can’t do anything That want to do the showing.” He took it good—thinks I to myself I’ll finish while I’m in it, “There’s one thing, Sammie, I’ve never done, An’ I’m old now to begin it. I’m old to wait on your lady wife, An’ stick to it day by day, An’ listen to high-falutin’ talk, An’ feel I’m just in the way. An’ another thing,” I said to him, Then stopped, an’ got red an’ hot, “You needn’t think your babies I’ll mind, Because I tell you I’ll not.” I wish you could have heard the boy laugh, He shook the things on the shelf, “The dear little mammie, shan’t be ’bused” He said, “I’ll mind ’em myself.” All this talk I tell just to show What a fickle thing I am, An’ how little my words really meant When I said all this to Sam. It was only some four years ago, An’ stowed in the big back hall There’s machines for almost everything, Leaning their backs to the wall. My daughter-in-law ’tends to it all— A good stout girl at her hand— If I say it myself, you can’t find Better kept house in the land. The books, an’ papers, an’ flowers seem Part of her every-day life, An’ no doctor can ’tend to a sprain Better than our Sammie’s wife. Now, I like to sit here in my chair An’ watch her happy an’ free, An’ I like—yes, I’ll own up—I like Baby to climb on my knee. Poor old father is sillier yet, A slave to three-year-old Jim, My, he grins an’ looks proud as can be Because the boy looks like him! Oh, we all have our worries I know, We find each blemish an’ flaw, But there’s one perfect thing in this world— Sam’s wife, my daughter-in-law.