A boy tells us about the hired girl, ’Lizabuth Ann, who makes glorious custard pies and chases him out of the kitchen with a playful chant. The memory is full of smells and the thrill of being shooed away. The Raggedy Man, mowing the lawn, sniffs the air and echoes the same line, as if sharing a secret joke.
Then comes the real surprise: one evening the family returns from a social to find a lit kitchen and an accordion playing. The boy barges in on ’Lizabuth Ann parching corn for the Raggedy Man. The old refrain shifts to “we cain’t git no courtin’ done,” revealing a shy hidden romance. The boy may not quite grasp it, but he senses something funny and sweet. The whole poem glows with warm, homespun mischief—the kind where a child knows enough to deliver the punchline with a grin.