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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477648" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Deacon Jones' Grievance</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'VE been watchin' of 'em parson,<br>An' I'm sorry fur to say<br>'At my mind is not contented<br>With the loose an' keerless way<br>'At the young folks treat the music;<br>'Tain't the proper sort o' choir.<br>Then I don't believe in Christuns<br>A-singin' hymns for hire.<br>But I never would 'a' murmured<br>An' the matter might 'a' gone<br>Ef it wasn't fur the antics<br>'At I've seen 'em kerry on;<br>So I thought it was my dooty<br>Fur to come to you an' ask<br>Ef you wouldn't sort o' gently<br>Take them singin' folks to task.<br>Fust, the music they're be'n singin'<br>Will disgrace us mighty soon;<br>It's a cross between a opry<br>An' a ol' cotillion tune.<br>With its dashes an' its quavers<br>An' its hifalutin style —<br>Why, it sets my head to swimmin'<br>When I'm comin' down the aisle.<br>Now it might be almost decent<br>Ef it wasn't fur the way<br>'At they git up there an' sing it,<br>Hey dum diddle, loud and gay. <br>Why, it shames the name o' sacred<br>In its brazen worldliness,<br>An' they're even got 'Ol' Hundred'<br>In a bold, new-fangled dress.<br>You'll excuse me, Mr. Parson,<br>Ef I seem a little sore;<br>But I've sung the songs of Isr'el<br>For threescore years an' more,<br>An ' it sort o' hurts my feelin's<br>Fur to see 'em put away<br>Fur these harum-scarum ditties<br>'At is capturin' the day.<br>There's anuther little happ'nin'<br>'At I'll mention while I'm here,<br>Jes' to show 'at my objections<br>All is offered sound and clear.<br>It was one day they was singin'<br>An' was doin' well enough —<br>Singin' good as people could sing<br>Sich an awful mess o' stuff —<br>When the choir give a holler,<br>An' the organ give a groan,<br>An' they left one weak-voiced feller<br>A-singin' there alone!<br>But he stuck right to the music,<br>Tho' 't was tryin' as could be;<br>An' when I tried to help him,<br>Why, the hull church scowled at me.<br>You say that's so-low singin',<br>Well, I pray the Lord that I<br>Growed up when folks was willin'<br>To sing their hymns so high.<br>Why, we never had sich doin's<br>In the good ol' Bethel days,<br>When the folks was all contented<br>With the simple songs of praise.<br>Now I may have spoke too open,<br>But 't was too hard to keep still,<br>An' I hope you'll tell the singers<br>'At I bear 'em no ill-will. <br>'At they all may git to glory<br>Is my wish an' my desire,<br>But they'll need some extry trainin'<br>'Fore they jine the heavenly choir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Paul+Laurence+Dunbar">Paul Laurence Dunbar</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477648" data-title="Deacon Jones' Grievance de Paul Laurence Dunbar" data-description="I'VE been watchin' of 'em parson,
An' I'm sorry fur to say
'At my mind is not contented
With the loose an' keerless way
'At the young folks treat the music;
'Tain't the proper sort o' choir.
Then I don't believe in Christuns
A-singin' hymns for hi..."></div>
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