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THEY VE got a bran new organ, Sue, | |
For all their fuss and search; | |
They ve done just as they said they d do, | |
And fetched it into church. | |
They re bound the critter shall be seen, | 5 |
And on the preachers right, | |
They ve hoisted up their new machine | |
In everybodys sight. | |
They ve got a chorister and choir, | |
Agin my voice and vote; | 10 |
For it was never my desire | |
To praise the Lord by note! | |
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I ve been a sister good an true, | |
For five an thirty year; | |
I ve done what seemed my part to do, | 15 |
An prayed my duty clear; | |
I ve sung the hymns both slow and quick, | |
Just as the preacher read; | |
And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, | |
I took the fork an led! | 20 |
An now, their bold, new-fangled ways | |
Is comin all about; | |
And I, right in my latter days, | |
Am fairly crowded out! | |
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To-day, the preacher, good old dear, | 25 |
With tears all in his eyes, | |
ReadI can read my title clear | |
To mansions in the skies. | |
I alays liked that blessèd hymn | |
I spose I alays will; | 30 |
It somehow gratifies my whim, | |
In good old Ortonville; | |
But when that choir got up to sing, | |
I couldnt catch a word; | |
They sung the most dog-gonedest thing | 35 |
A body ever heard! | |
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Some worldly chaps was standin near, | |
An when I see them grin, | |
I bid farewell to every fear, | |
And boldly waded in. | 40 |
I thought I d chase the tune along, | |
An tried with all my might; | |
But though my voice is good an strong, | |
I couldnt steer it right. | |
When they was high, then I was low, | 45 |
An also contrawise; | |
And I too fast, or they too slow, | |
To mansions in the skies. | |
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An after every verse, you know, | |
They played a little tune; | 50 |
I didnt understand, an so | |
I started in too soon. | |
I pitched it purty middlin high, | |
And fetched a lusty tone, | |
But O, alas! I found that I | 55 |
Was singin there alone! | |
They laughed a little, I am told; | |
But I had done my best; | |
And not a wave of trouble rolled | |
Across my peaceful breast. | 60 |
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And Sister Brown,I could but look, | |
She sits right front of me; | |
She never was no singin book, | |
An never went to be; | |
But then she alays tried to do | 65 |
The best she could, she said; | |
She understood the time, right through, | |
An kep it with her head; | |
But when she tried this morn in, O, | |
I had to laugh, or cough! | 70 |
It kep her head a bobbin so, | |
It een amost come off! | |
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An Deacon Tubbs,he all broke down, | |
As one might well suppose; | |
He took one look at Sister Brown, | 75 |
And meekly scratched his nose. | |
He looked his hymn-book through and through, | |
And laid it on the seat, | |
And then a pensive sigh he drew, | |
And looked completely beat. | 80 |
An when they took another bout, | |
He didnt even rise; | |
But drawed his red bandanner out, | |
An wiped his weepin eyes. | |
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I ve been a sister, good an true, | 85 |
For five an thirty year; | |
I ve done what seemed my part to do, | |
An prayed my duty clear; | |
But death will stop my voice, I know, | |
For he is on my track; | 90 |
And some day I ll to meetin go, | |
And nevermore come back. | |
And when the folks get up to sing | |
Wheneer that time shall be | |
I do not want no patent thing | 95 |
A squealin over me! | |
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