Classic Poem

He came in from the damp,
And he looked like any tramp,
For his trousers and his coat were soaking wet — oh my!
And a stream ran down the back
Of his dark-brown leather sack
When he laid it down and asked for a place where he could lie.

From the corner came a snarl:
" A common beggar carl
Must take a beggar's lodging, that he must — oh my!
Join my servant in the shed
And you 'll find an extra bed,
You can get a truss of straw from the hay-loft if you try. "

The stranger's look was black,
And he straightway turned his back.
When he took his bundle up, they heard a plunk — oh my!
But the farmer shouted: " Stop!
Can you fiddle? then play up!
Scrape well and it will earn you a supper by-and-by. "

With the first good fiddle-stroke
There were drums, and shots, and smoke,
There were ranks of blue with muskets all agleam — oh my!
And the farmer's aspect shone:
" Well, if that 's your worst, go on!
As in my old recruit-years my blood runs warm and spry! "

But the second measure sang
As if sacred bell-notes rang
A soft birch-scented anthem in God's house — oh my!
From the fire-place, deeply stirred,
Then the good-wife's voice was heard:
" A fiddler such as that shall have our finest bed, say I. "

And when next his bow he drew,
It was forest birds that flew,
It was pair on pair-that danced with lovers' joy — oh my!
Then up the daughter sprung,
On the stranger's neck she clung,
And a pretty maiden's kisses gave the fiddler his reply.

But the farmer at the board
Spoke again a gentle word:
" Come, take a glass; I love a pretty tune — oh my!
It 's the same with Mother here. "
And the shy girl said: " I fear,
Kind stranger, when you 're gone I can't do anything but cry. "

He smiled upon the lass
And he took the brimming glass:
" I 'm not the shabby fellow that you thought — oh nay!
I 'm a right good organist,
And my name is Apelqvist,
And I 'll be your promised lover, pretty maiden, if I may. "