Classic Poem

I've heard of your wonderful weddin',
My faraway, favorite niece;
I've read ev'ry newspaper headin'
An' ev'ry “Society” piece.
I'm glad that your weddin' was quiet,
An' simple in garb an' in gown,
An' no matrimonial riot
Upsettin' the whole of the town.

So many there are that are noisy,
With hunderds to cackle an' stare,
Reported from Boston to Boise,
With lists of the notables there—
A church that is crowded with people,
A street that is busy with din,
A fire-alarm rung from the steeple
To gether the curious in.

But yours it was quiet an' simple,
With only your friends an' your folks,
Who laffed at your daintiest dimple
An' smiled at the minister's jokes.
Their greetin' was honest an' hearty,
The neighbors who come to the door,
A sort of a family party
Without any riot an' roar.

I always have thought gittin' married
Was rather a personal thing;
For why should a couple be harried—
Two turtle-doves just on the wing—
By crowdin' an' talkin' an' shoutin',
An' hunderds to gossip an' sneer?
A weddin's no picnic or outin',
As you will discover, my dear.

If I had the act to do over
(I speak as a fellah outdoors
Who likes to wade meadows of clover
An' camp by their musical shores),
I wouldn't have that for a minute,
When I an' the girl were made one;
I'd have just the song of a linnet,
I'd have just the light of the sun.

I wouldn't care much if the others
Should know I got married or not;
I'd just want the fathers an' mothers
When hitched double-harness I got.
I'd just want a preacher who's pleasant,
I'd just want a day that is fair;
I wouldn't care much who was present
As long as the lady was there.

The throwin' of rice I don't care for,
I have some old shoes of my own;
I wonder what people are there for
An' why all the truck should be thrown?
The rice an' the shoes an' the kisses
May add to the holiday fuss,
But they wouldn't please me an' the missus
By makin' a target of us.

An' no one would follow the custom
Of kissin' the lady I chose;
If any one tried it, I'd bust him
Right there on the spot on the nose.
If all of these holiday hooters
Went kissin' the lady I win,
I'd unlimber a pair of six-shooters
An' the party would really begin.