Bimeby

 

by J. Crouse

 

 

Most gracious King, The Heart of creatures is the foundation of life, the Prince of all, the Sun of their Microcosm, on which all vegetation does depend from whence all vigor and strength does flow.  Likewise the King is the foundation of his Kingdoms, and the Sun of his Microcosm, the Heart of his Common-wealth, from whence all power and mercy proceeds.  I was so bold to offer to your Majesty those things which are written concerning the Heart, so much the rather, because (according to the custom of this age) all things human are according to the pattern of man, and most things in a King according to that of the Heart; Therefore the knowledge of his own Heart cannot be unprofitable to a King, as being a divine resemblance of his actions (So us’d they small things with great to compare).  You may at least, best of Kings, being plac’d in the top of human things, at the same time contemplate the Principle of Mans Body, and the Image of your Kingly power.  I therefore most humbly entreat, most gracious King, accept, according to your accustom’d bounty and clemency, these new things concerning the Heart, who are the new light of this age, and indeed the whole Heart of it, a Prince abounding in virtue and grace, to whom we acknowledge our thanks to be due, for any good that England receives and any pleasure that our life enjoys.  Your Sacred Majesties most devoted Servant tooby sho’ en yit no dus’ ain’t dar en did when dat de case ’stroy gingercakes un eat dem pea dey git ter whar de frolic wuz en r’ar’d ’roun’ knock-a da toof out back dar twel dey git sorter usen ter clim’in’ dat big red-oak out yan’ beholes hit bu’n yo’ tail off w’ich en w’ich’s dast ter ’sputin’ up’n ax ’im howdy snatch um slonchways git ter pon’ time nuff cahoots en kil’t a cow ter count um up at sump’n’ right hard honey ooman come ’e see ’e mammy mash um flat da nex’ day mornin’ git-a aig en shot bofe eyes ter strankle smifflicated twice ez natchul in my th’oat kyo ’spepsy good fer sollumcolly thoo de crack de loop-knot cotch groun’ laws-a-massy dat a behime foot tu’n loose de peazzer des a-rollin’ fat caboodle crope off whar der wuz onkoamin’ ha’rs’ yo’ fixin’s dinner dish yer apple-ratus draw’d back fotch wipe ’cross de stomach dat de bad man bizzy hol’ de log un lissen at em spozen’ wuz ter thanky too wid yaller eye-balls dars yo’ witch fresh from de quogmire rabbit squirmin’ on de skin wuz stingin’ salt en wedder come in slanchendicklar temper kep’ hot make no diffunce atter ruckus wuz sashayin’ ’roun’ de mumps an’ measles got der years der noses an’ der eyeses whar de famblies livin’ dat’d come off ef de bung-hole mo’ familious wid um figger’d ’cep’ de bunch de bit what done on ‘rangements fer de bobbycue an’ wid dat wus dat double gizzard tarrifyin’ feelin’ be boo-hooin’ scratchin’ got no eye whiles in de notion right half-way ’tween floppers ’bout ter bust wid pain prom’nadin’ pine-trees zackly w’at w’en gooden ready mizzle-muzzle moof a dead pig in de sunshine ’stonish’ double thrible trouble law ’speck gwine ter let dat hook cranksided fumble wid ’er hankcher chile right flat ’way fum w’en gracious shoo to’ intruls out de ’greement run a body ’stracted strucken wid de palsy mought owdashus-lookin’ samer bay colt swell up yap an’ ouch an’ lopin’ darfo’ kaze de dry grins wid de turkentime cum fum de muscadine whoops up de cotton crap likewise dey freshens sinners i’on-clad ontwell commence ter cramp um sholy be hard hear dey hadn’t oughter reckon dat’s one eye wunk chaw de pine-bud sifter so ’twon’t try to ’splain w’iles all dis gwine on ’mongs de big-bugs ain’t tergedder wid some wharfo’es in de ’sembly ’twuz den gitten’ close ter yasser put yo’ pennunce in en broke in inter jiblits ceppin’ dey ain’t nigh as mannish ’membunce satchified en kilt ’im ’casion j’inin’ slambang pow dis long-come-short a-cally-hootin’ hol’ yo’ breff’n stan’ flat-footed fairly honin’ sump’n’ w’at got bleedzd ter say desso joke kinder ’spression diffunt deze ter reckermember b from bull’s foot onbeknownst ’im ’bout de dickunses an’ ’clar’ ter goodness y’ever sence den thanky-do hoss switched ’mongst yuthers knock-kneed hocks suh ’commydatin’ kaze a b’ile smole mighty hot ’twa’n’t dat den hoe-cake ain’t cook done good ain’t seed git in smellin’ distuns no mo’ widout dey’s a row de co’n-pile b’lieve ’way fum dar w’at de marter n’er’n done mos’ lak dis heap er mixness ’nyin min’ ter take yo’ choosement lip back ax de bigges’ take ain’t dern fum monstus sholy does too bookity bookity right den dar den dat en den hit wuss’n dat lots wuss ole jimps got jubous slick up chicken dat partooken unk jeems got ’im sont ’im up yer zeemzy howdied honey-in-de-com’ kerblap a-tootin’ too-whoo figger ah-h-h den tater custard tas’e it yit look like a case highstericks sleepin’ heads off kinder dremp blip thunk wuz cryin’ heart broke und’ de kivver booger gittin’ hurtid lemme ’lone lump pile up vittles argafy dis tribbalashun unction ’umble ’polergy ’sturb massycreein’ simmy-sam servigrous hongry ’havishness erbleege terbacker chaw ma-hah stan’ ticklin’ short ribs smoking yam declar’ deloojes moughtent mussy watermillions s’render done ’gun dribble shucks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works by J. Crouse have appeared in The Columbia Review, in the Uphook Press anthology, gape seed, and online at The Tower Journal and at E·ratio Issues 10 and 14.