Henry Howard Brownell (1820–1872)

“All we ask is to be let alone.”

AS vonce I valked by a dismal svamp,

There sot an Old Cove in the dark and damp,

And at everybody as passed that road

A stick or a stone this Old Cove throwed.

And venever he flung his stick or his stone,

He’d set up a song of “Let me alone.”

“Let me alone, for I loves to shy

These bits of things at the passers by—

Let me alone, for I’ve got your tin

And lots of other traps snugly in;—

Let me alone, I’m riggin a boat

To grab votever you’ve got afloat;—

In a veek or so I expects to come

And turn you out of your ’ouse and ’ome;—

I’m a quiet Old Cove,” says he, vith a groan:

“All I axes is—Let me alone.”

Just then came along on the self-same vay,

Another Old Cove, and began for to say—

“Let you alone! That’s comin’ it strong!—

You’ve ben let alone—a darned sight too long;—

Of all the sarce that ever I heerd!

Put down that stick! (You may well look skeered.)

Let go that stone! If you once show fight,

I’ll knock you higher than ary kite.

You must hev a lesson to stop your tricks,

And cure you of shying them stones and sticks,—

An I’ll hev my hardware back and my cash,

And knock your scow into tarnal smash,

And if ever I catches you ’round my ranch,

I’ll string you up to the nearest branch.

The best you can do is to go to bed,

And keep a decent tongue in your head;

For I reckon, before you and I are done,

You’ll wish you had let honest folks alone.”

The Old Cove stopped, and the t’other Old Cove

He sot quite still in his cypress grove,

And he looked at his stick revolvin’ slow

Vhether ’twere safe to shy it or no,—

And he grumbled on, in an injured tone,

“All that I axed vos, let me alone.”