Grandfather Squeers
'My grandfather Squeers,' said The Raggedy Man,
As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began--
'The most indestructible man, for his years,
And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!
'He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten,
'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'
'He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he
Could tell by them just what the weather would be;
'And would laugh and declare, 'while the _Almanac_ would
Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!'
'Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers
That, 'though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years,
'He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week,
While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:
'Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack
Of sitting around on the small of his back,
'With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate
Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.
'He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways,
And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,
'And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for
The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War.'
And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl
Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal
From the stove with his finger and thumb, 'You can see
What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!
'And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight
In pruning his corns every Saturday night
'With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused
By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;
'And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same
Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,
''Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade
As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!'
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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