Classic Poem

I got me dressed for going down
To Teague, the County Seat,
With half my savings on my back,
And half upon my feet.

My father said, “Be careful, son.”
My mother said, “Be good.”
My sister said, “Bring me a ring
The way a brother should.”

The leaves were in the ditches
And haze was on the ridge
The morning I stepped through our fence
And crossed the trestle bridge.

Oh, chimney-pots were smoking
And flags were in the air
When I came heeling into Teague
To see the County Fair.

I stopped a peddler-woman
And bought a box of corn
That had a small tin bird inside
For blowing like a horn.

I guessed at pebbles in a jar
And had my fortune told
And learned that I would meet a girl
That day, and find her cold.

The cards were right, for very soon
I crowded through a swirl
Of people near a platform
To watch a dancing girl.

And sure I lost my senses
Right there upon the street
From seeing how she tossed her hair
And shook her little feet.

And “Never will I take a wife
To share my roof and bed
Or spend my gold, unless it be
This dancing girl,” I said.

But she—She looked me thru and thru
When I had caught her glance
And said, “I think the hicks have come
To clutter up our dance.”

And then—“Get on, my fellow,
And see the cattle shows,”
She said, and snapped her finger-tips
Just underneath my nose.

I got me from her curling mouth,
And from her scornful eyes,
And never stopped to ask if I
Had won the guessing prize.

I cut the miles to home by half,
Straight up a mountain side,
And “Hope to God I never see
That girl again,” I lied.

My father let me in at dusk,
My mother looked distraught,
My sister lay all night and wept
The ring I had not bought.

My father questioned me of mares,
My mother spoke of lace,
But I had not a word for them—
I'd only seen a face.

They tell me now I am no good
For sending to a fair,
And do not know that only part
Of me came back from there.

They do not know my hands are here
And here my heavy feet,
But that my heart is miles away—
In Teague, the County Seat.