Poetry Archives

If I have had some merry times
 In roaming up and down the earth,
Have made some happy-hearted rhymes
 And had my brimming share of mirth,
And if this song should live in fame
 When my brief day is dead and gone,
Let it recall with mine the name
 Of old man Jesse Covington.

Let it recall his waggish heart—
 Yeke-hey, yeke-hey, hey-diddle-diddle—
When, while the fire-logs fell apart,
 He snatched the bow across his fiddle,
And looked on, with his eyes half shut,
 Which meant his soul was wild with fun,
At our mad capers through the hut
 Of old man Jesse Covington.

For all the thrilling tales he told,
 For all the tunes the fiddle knew,
For all the glorious nights of old
 We boys and he have rollicked through,
For laughter all unknown to wealth
 That roared responsive to a pun,
A hale, ripe age and ruddy health
 To old man Jesse Covington!