Classic Poem

They danced by the roadside on Saturday night,
And the laughter resounded to left and to right,
With shouts of " Hip, hip! " and of " Hey! "
Nils Utterman, famed as a queer old freak,
Sat there and made his accordion squeak
With doodely, doodely, day!

There was Cottage Bess, — whose attractions are many,
She is pretty and slim, though she has n't a penny,
She's brimful of mischief and fun.
There was Christie, — the wild, independent young lassie! —
And Biddy of Finnthorpe, and Tilly, and Cassie,
And rollicking Meg o' the Run.

There was Pete o' the Ridge and Gus o' the Rise, —
Who are nimble at tossing a girl to the skies
And at catching her when she comes down.
There was Phil o' the Croft and Nick o' the Flume,
And Tommy the Soldier, and Jimmy the Groom,
And Karl-John of Taylortown.

They danced as with bodies of tow set afire,
All jumping like grasshoppers higher and higher,
And heel it rang sharp upon stone.
The coat-tails they fluttered, the aprons they flew,
And braids were a-flapping and skirts flung askew,
While the music would whimper and drone.

Then in birch, or in alder, or hazel thicket
There was whispering light as the chirp of a cricket
From the depths of the darkness near.
Over stock, over stone, there was flight and pursuing,
And under green boughs there was billing and cooing —
" If you want me, come have me right here! "

Over all lay the twinkling, star-lovely night;
In the wood-bordered bay a shimmery light
Fell soft on the waves as they broke.
A breeze, clover-laden, was borne from the meadow,
And a whiff from the firs and the pines that o'ershadow
The hills with their resinous cloak.

A fox lent his voice to the din of the crew,
And out of the brambles an owl cried " Oohoo! "
But they heard not, they heeded not, they.
" Oohoo! " from Goat Mountain the echo cried,
And to Utterman's doodling in turn replied
With a doodely, doodely, day!