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Guvas Coomer Solicits Furioso In Tramp Ms.

Guvas Coomer Solicits Furioso In Tramp Ms. Albert Stewart Appalachian Heritage, Volume 29, Number 2, Spring 2001, p. i (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2001.0096 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/438668/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 21:53 GMT from JHU Libraries Appalachian Heritage Guvas Coomer Solicits Furioso In Tramp Ms. I've done my time, Bud, my apprenticeship labor; I've sailed the seas where the tradewinds blow; I've danced my dance, Bud, to tambour and tabor; Nozv I'm looking to you for a place to go. I saw in youth the sun-gold mountains Or at least Iheard^ the rumors ofsome. White cows I saw, Bud, by silveryfountains. I called the cows, but the cows wouldn't come. My age was a trance, Bud, ofgrotesque prancing, The skin but a bag for a jumble of bone. There was nothing to do but dance -without dancing, Thefeet never sure on thefallaivay stone. ¡ust any old bin, Bud, for this old roivr, And any old type to set me true, Just any old Mag to ghv me cover And any old rhyme will do, will do. —Albert Stewart Spring 2001 http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Guvas Coomer Solicits Furioso In Tramp Ms.

Stewart, Albert, --.
Appalachian Review , Volume 29 (2) – Jan 8, 2014
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Albert Stewart Appalachian Heritage, Volume 29, Number 2, Spring 2001, p. i (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2001.0096 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/438668/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 21:53 GMT from JHU Libraries Appalachian Heritage Guvas Coomer Solicits Furioso In Tramp Ms. I've done my time, Bud, my apprenticeship labor; I've sailed the seas where the tradewinds blow; I've danced my dance, Bud, to tambour and tabor; Nozv I'm looking to you for a place to go. I saw in youth the sun-gold mountains Or at least Iheard^ the rumors ofsome. White cows I saw, Bud, by silveryfountains. I called the cows, but the cows wouldn't come. My age was a trance, Bud, ofgrotesque prancing, The skin but a bag for a jumble of bone. There was nothing to do but dance -without dancing, Thefeet never sure on thefallaivay stone. ¡ust any old bin, Bud, for this old roivr, And any old type to set me true, Just any old Mag to ghv me cover And any old rhyme will do, will do. —Albert Stewart Spring 2001

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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